


The Sirens of Fortuna

by toastkat



Series: Adventures of the Deadlands Devils [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Western, Crushes, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Female Characters, Female Relationships, Flirting, Girls Kissing, Kissing, Lesbian Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, Porn, Porn With Plot, Protective Siblings, Relationship(s), Romance, Sensual Play, Sex Work, Sexual Content, Siblings, Slash, Teasing, Threesome - F/F/F, Vaginal Fingering, Western, Widowed, weird western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2019-11-23 11:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18151196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastkat/pseuds/toastkat
Summary: When innocent Kyrie steps off the train and into Fortuna, Trish and Lady know at first glance that they want the maiden for themselves. However, Kyrie proves to be more trouble than they bargained for.Trigger Warning: Characters in this story use period-appropriate offensive language and slurs in this fic.





	1. Chapter 1

****

_"Cover" art by[OptimisticPariah](http://www.optimisticpariah.tumblr.com)_

 

**Chapter 1**

The train arrived in Fortuna a few minutes after the twelfth chime of the noon bell faded away. The hiss of steam, the tooting whistle, and the clatter of the wheels could be heard from where Trish stood. The woman leaned against a support beam of the wrap-around porch in front of her saloon. Her fingers idly wrapped a cigarette to keep her hands busy as her eyes watched. From her post, she could see the train station and everyone who meandered from the station and onto the road. Her saloon was her pride and joy, her baby. She had built it years and years ago, when her husband’s boys were still wild, unbroken, and hadn’t quite grown into the hair on their chests yet. She smiled to herself at the memory.

The Desert Rose was massive, for a saloon. Most were long and narrow, but hers was twice the width of a normal saloon. It’s swinging doors faced the east, where all travelers looking for a drink and a woman seemed to come from. Those weary wanderers knew she had both. One was advertised by a hand-carved wooden sign hanging under her logo of the blooming red rose, “DRINKS $1 OR LESS”. The other was advertised by the sheer red curtains on the third and fourth floors of her building. Even in the day, they glowed with tempting ruby light. It was something she and the local sheriff had argued about night after night, drink after drink. She always won. She’d been there longer than him and his authority. More than once, she’d told him to suck her _jurisdiction_ as he left her establishment. And every time his reelection came, she made a point to donate to his campaign. She made similar donations to the church to keep them off her back. As a compromise to both, the second floor was for guests wanting an unoccupied room and an unsoiled bed.

She wasn’t dressed for work yet, but that didn’t mean the saloon was closed. When it got closer to nightfall, then she’d put on her finery. She’d put on her silks and satins, her jewels and perfumes. She’d put on her costume for the men coming off of the cattle fields and horse ranches. She’d paint her face for the men coming out of the mines and out of the wilds. During the day, she wore simple clothes; a faded black button-down shirt tucked into tan trousers. The top two buttons of her shirt were left unbuttoned and open; partially to welcome that cool breeze that rustled the occasional tumbleweed and danced in the dusty road, and partially so that any man who looked at her wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking of her as one of them. She kept her blonde hair pinned up and tucked neatly into her hat, and her pistols hung in their holsters at her hips.

Lady came up beside her yawning, disturbed from her nap by the ruckus of the train coming in. She, too, was dressed in only a shirt and trousers. Slender arms snaked around Trish’s waist as her partner hugged her from behind, and the blonde felt Lady rest her cheek on Trish’s back. She smiled to herself as she brought the cigarette to her lips and lit it with a whispered word, a spark between her fingers igniting the paper and dried tobacco. Her hands free, she ran one over Lady’s arm. Together they watched and they judged, as people trickled out of the train station and into the city streets.

Fortuna was the last stop before the wilds of the west, before the Deadlands. When America had purchased land from the French and the Spanish, neither country thought to warn the States of the demons awaiting the cartographers and explorers. Whether it was an accident or intentional was still up for debate, but there was no denying that the presence of monsters and nightmares made westward expansion...difficult, to say the least. The braver of the travelers would continue on by wagon, stagecoach, or horseback, thinking that they had enough guns, money, or wits to tame the beasts and the land beyond. Depending on how much they paid the mercenaries that traveled with them, those dreamers might reach the unclaimed territories and government-promised lands. They might stake a claim and go on to prosper. They also might not. Mercenaries were as much of a gamble as the wilds; perhaps worse so because mercenaries were greedy. The wilds and the monsters were just hungry. The adventurers would continue. And the wise… No, the wise settlers and travelers, monster hunters and gold diggers, gamblers and prostitutes would stop here, stay here, and Fortuna would just grow more.

Trish took a drag from her cigarette and let it out in a slow sigh as she watched the new arrivals walk along the street. Some had a purpose, making their way to specific destinations. The miners would be going to the tent village at the outskirts of town or straight for the silver mines that were advertised in newspapers and flyers. The gamblers, in their fancy coats and clothes, checked their little booklets as they shopped for a table to call their home. They’d either wind up in the Desert Rose or in another saloon, hopping from bar to bar until their luck wore out their welcome.Then there were the hunters. The monster hunters, the treasure hunters, and the bounty hunters would seek out Dante. Not finding him in his little shop, they’d come to the Desert Rose where they _would_ find him. Some would seek out the sheriff’s office. They would be asking for the same thing; leads, permits, or both. Workers, tradesmen, young men looking for a new life - they all had a place to go, somewhere to be. Somewhere they belonged. Her smile faded slowly as her gaze skimmed their faces and their clothes. They were tired and desperate, looking for a new life of opportunity and promise in a land on the brink of war.

“We need a few new girls to cover the floor and dish washing,” Lady whispered in her partner’s ear. “Camille quit yesterday to head on to the next town, Rachel just got married and is moving away, and Willa’s gone missing.”

“And no one knows where she went?”

Lady shook her head, giving Trish a gentle squeeze.

“That’s the third girl in two weeks who’s disappeared.”

“I know.”

“And the sheriff doesn’t know anything either?”

“His hands are full. Between keeping the protection wards activated around the edge of town and chasing bandits, why should he care about a girl going missing? Especially when she doesn’t have a family.”

“She has a family. She has us.”

The brunette sighed heavily. Trish knew that sound. In Lady’s mind, their missing girl was already dead and buried, unless her name appeared in the papers. Even then, it was rarely good news when that happened.

It didn’t change the fact that they needed more help. Rachel had been a good dancer with the stamina of a horse. She could out-dance and out-drink most of the men that came to their establishment. Trish was thrilled that she’d been lucky enough to find a man who could not only keep up with her, but loved her with all of his heart. She made a mental note to send her former employee a wedding gift later. Camille had brought the red-curtained Rose a great deal of income. She was quick, efficient, and the men who left her room never complained. She was expensive to maintain, though, with her desire for fancy gowns and jewelry. With any luck, Camille would find her fortune in a city on the west coast. Assuming she made it that far. Willa had been good to the gamblers. They said she was good luck, bringing them winning hands every time she sat in a player’s lap. Trish joked it was because she was Irish. Lady had another theory. She said it was because Willa would help her men cheat so he could give her his winnings later in the bedroom. No one had accused her of cheating yet, but it seemed her luck had finally run out.

“See anyone that catches your fancy?” Lady asked, bringing Trish out of her thoughts.

At first, the blonde hadn’t. Women were rare. The population of Fortuna was almost entirely men, with a ratio of one-hundred-to-one. And the few unmarried women were already employed, either at the Desert Rose, another saloon or dance house, or self-employed in the new red light district growing outside of town. The competition between Trish’s business and theirs wasn’t in getting the men and the money, but in getting the women willing to work. She could already imagine the madams and pimps stalking the train station and stagecoach stops, ready to pick out new arrivals. It was a practice she loathed and refused to do.

Trish was about to write off the new arrivals of Fortuna, seeing only men and their wide-brimmed hats. But just as her ruby lips parted to say that no, she hadn’t, a shimmer of soft cotton caught her attention. Lady must have seen her too at that same moment; Trish felt her partner lift her head and her body perk up in interest.

The maiden looked awfully young to be travelling alone, and she was certainly brave for doing so. She had the look of a mail-order bride shipped to America, but Trish found it odd that there wasn’t a man to meet her. In fact, the girl looked rather lost, fanning herself as she looked around quizzically, with only one trunk dragging beside her. The maiden wore a white gown, and as she wandered down the street closer and closer to the Desert Rose, Trish could see the details of it. It was an empire cut gown that emphasized her bosom, the shape of her waist and hips hidden by the length of her dress and the pale pink robe-like shawl. A parasol hung from the hook of her elbow, and a wide-brimmed bonnet shaded her and covered her hair. She looked positively British, and Trish couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to slip out of the train station without notice.

Trish nodded pointedly in the maiden’s direction. “Her.”

Lady needed no further command or word. Her arms pulled away from Trish’s body, and the blonde watched her partner stalk up to the maiden. She drew a long drag from her cigarette and let it out slowly. Lady tipped her hat and the maiden curtsied cutely, and though Trish couldn’t hear what they were saying, she could imagine the conversation they were having. It was the same one she’d had herself, with other young women who came to Fortuna in search of their own destinies. Lady would be asking the maiden her name, what brought her to Fortuna, how far west was she going… And if the maiden was interested, there was a room available for a low price.

Her brows furrowed and she waved away a cloud of smoke as she watched the maiden’s gaze fall to Lady’s boots, her head shaking. Trish stood up straight in interest and snuffed her cigarette, pocketing the remains in a little tin case from her pocket. Had she judged wrong? _Was_ there a man here for her after all? Or was she only between stops, taking a stagecoach or wagon further west where the trains hadn’t been built yet and feared to go? Lady made a sweeping gesture towards the saloon, and the maiden curtsied once more, taking the corner of her dress and shawl in hand to keep the hems from getting further dusty as she headed towards Trish and the Desert Rose. Lady picked up the trunk, hefting it over her shoulder easily as she trailed behind the maiden.

From a distance, Trish’s vision obstructed by distance and clouds of copper-colored dust, the maiden had appeared plain and homely. Up close, however…As her electric blue eyes raked over the maiden’s face and body, appraising her, Trish felt a tremor in her heart and a small burst in her abdomen. The maiden was _beautiful_. Her oval face was pleasing to the eye, and her eyes were the color of wood. When she smiled, they almost turned gold like honey. Across the bridge of her nose and the apples of her cheeks were a constellation of freckles that matched her auburn curls that framed her face in warmth. Her lips were a gentle rose pink and so plush, Trish already knew how they’d feel against her own. And her body…Her dress, though modest in its composition, clung to her legs and waist in such a sultry manner as she walked that little was left to Trish’s imagination. She didn’t bother with a bustle, nor did she need one in Trish’s opinion. The blonde had little doubt in her mind that the maiden would easily earn her wages and more. She’d never be without a dance partner, nor would she ever go thirsty, and should she desire it, she’d never be alone.

The maiden gave Trish a smile and bobbed a little curtsey as she and Lady joined the blonde on the porch. She folded her fan and held it demurely at her abdomen as Lady made the introductions. “Miss Kyrie, this is my business partner. Trish, this is Miss Kyrie.”

“How do you do?” Trish asked, tilting her hat at the maiden.

“Pleased to meet you,” Kyrie replied sweetly. Her voice sent a rivulet of sparks down Trish’s spine. There was a magic in her voice that Trish’s own power could taste, but she looked too pure and sweet to be a demon.   _A witch? A siren?_ The blonde became lost in her thoughts as she mulled the possibilities. Lady had to clear her throat to pull Trish back to reality.

Trish jerked her head toward the saloon. “Come on in and have a drink on the house. I’m sure Lady’s already talked to you about the employment opportunities found in Fortuna.”

Kyrie’s attention went to her little brown ankle boots. “I’m afraid I can’t stay for very long. My brother wasn’t at the train station to collect me, and I must find him to let him know I’ve arrived.”

“We can send a girl out to look for him! Then he can come in and have a drink too!”

Lady snorted. “He’s welcome to try, but I think he’s still sore about the last time you kicked him out.”

Trish blinked, glancing between them. “Your brother is one of ours?”

“Yes. Miss Lady failed to give you my last name when she made the introductions. My full name is Kyrie Eleison.”

“E…Eleison…As in…”

The maiden tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, the gesture briefly hiding her blush of embarrassment. “My brother is Credo Eleison.”

“ _Sheriff_ Credo?!” Trish felt her face blanch at the realization.

No wonder the other madams and pimps hadn’t picked her up at the train station. Suddenly, the maiden wasn’t so desirable anymore. Either Lady hadn’t put two and two together for herself, or she didn’t care. The brunette’s heterochromatic eyes sparkled with keen interest in the maiden. Trish mentally fumed. Did her partner not realize how much trouble they could get into?! The strict lawman was well aware of the going-ons of the Desert Rose, both legal and illicit. Trish’s relationship with the man was arguably friendly at best. The only thing that had kept him from shutting the place down was the fact that the establishment kept the troublemakers in one place. She paid her dues in taxes and charity. All it would take was for _one_ incident for the sheriff to have the justification he needed to close those swinging doors for good. Soiling his precious sister might just be that last straw he was waiting for.

Kyrie lifted her gaze and smiled so brightly that it pained Trish further. “You know my brother?”

“He uh...stops in from time to time.”

Lady snickered a bit. “Rather frequently. At least once a week.”

“Excuse us, Miss Kyrie. Lady, may I have a word with you for a moment?”

“Sure love.” She set the trunk down on the porch beside the English maiden, giving Kyrie a wink. “Be back in a second, darling.”

Trish dragged her smirking partner into the saloon. They passed all the empty tables and dance floor, all the way to the bar and out of Kyrie’s earshot. Free lunch had been hours ago, and dinner wouldn’t be for hours yet. At this time of day, there was only one patron in the building, occupying his usual seat at his usual table close to the bar. He was perfectly balanced on the back two legs of his chair, his own legs stretched out to rest his feet on the table. His hat hid his face and muffled his snoring, but Trish recognized Dante’s red duster and chaps anywhere. The dancing girls wouldn’t be in until later in the evening, and the half dozen that kept the place neat and tidy during the day were in the kitchen, sipping tea and exchanging gossip before the real work began. One of the girls poked her head out as Trish came storming to the bar with Lady in tow. Seeing that the clatter wasn’t caused by patronage, the young woman retreated back to the safety of the kitchen. She, like all of the women at the Desert Rose, knew from experience to leave the Bosses alone.

“I take it back,” Trish hissed lowly. “I take it all back! What the _hell_ are we doing? We can’t have Sheriff Credo’s _sister_ working here!”

“What are her options, Trishie?” Lady asked just as quietly in return. “Sitting around all day doing needlework at the county jail while her brother is off rootin’ and tootin’? There’s nothing wrong with her earning an honest wage by serving drinks and wiping down tables. Or hell, if you’re so worried about her reputation getting tarnished, we can keep her in the back doing dishes, refilling bottles, and washing napkins!”

She crossed her arms and rose a skeptical golden eyebrow at her partner. “Right. Because that’s _all_ she’ll be doing.”

Lady chuckled nervously. “Alright, you caught me. She’s sexy in that innocent virgin sort of way. Trishie, she’s cute and charming, and I’ll bet my bottom dollar she’s a beast on the dance floor. We hire her on as a barmaid. Maybe even a hurdy-girl, if she’s feeling up for it. But that’s it. No pearls for her.”

“Somehow I doubt Credo will be happy with the thought of his sister anywhere near drunken men, let alone serving them drinks and dancing with them. Even if we assure him she’d never get her pearls.”

“One night, Trish. Let her work one night. If she does a good job, awesome! We have a new barmaid! If she washes out, if she can’t handle the pressure, if she turns out to be unfit for the Desert Rose, then we cut our loss, give her what she earned, and send her home to her brother!”

Trish shook her head, her attention going to the swinging doors and the maiden beyond. Kyrie had her back to them and was fanning herself as she patiently waited for their verdict. _What would bring an English lady from the comforts of her home all the way to the wilds of America?_ Trish wondered. _The love of her brother? Or something else?_

“You see it too, don’t you?” Lady asked, disrupting her thoughts.

She chuckled. “I think you’re just biased because she’s the first cute girl to come to Fortuna in a long time.”

“I mean...You’re not _wrong_.”

“Neither are you. I do see it. There’s something special about her. But what?”

Lady shrugged. “We can figure that out later. One night. That’s all I’m asking.”

The blonde smiled weakly at her partner. “I really can’t say no to you, can I?”

“Well, it doesn’t help that you had that same thought too, when you saw her.”

Trish scoffed, turning her head away. “I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about.” Her blush betrayed her thoughts.

Grinning, Lady said nothing more on the subject and crossed the saloon. She leaned on the swinging doors as she opened them. “Alright, darlin’. Come on in and have a seat. We’ll send a girl out to the sheriff’s office and let him know you’re here. In the meantime, there’s no sense in waiting out in the sun. Especially when it’s nice and cool in here.”

Kyrie smiled as she folded her fan, letting it hang from a chord around her wrist, and lifted her trunk. She carried it with her into the saloon, and Trish poked her head into the kitchen, sending Lucia out to fetch Credo. As she returned to the bar, the blonde saw that Kyrie had left her luggage by the stairs going up to the guest rooms. Kyrie hopped into a stool beside Lady; the maiden daintily rested her hands on her lap as the brunette leaned onto the bar with an elbow.

Three shot glasses were set out, and three shots of the good whiskey were poured. Trish learned years ago how to make her own. She watered it down for the regulars and saved the “good stuff” for special occasions. Kyrie hesitated as she reached for her own, but she held her glass up with Lady and Trish’s, chiming them together.

“To a good bargaining,” Trish proposed.

The girls nodded and drank together. The liquid ran down Trish’s throat smoothly, and Lady sighed in satisfaction as she set down her glass. Kyrie, however, burst out into a fit of coughs as she set her glass down. Lady laughed gently, rubbing her back to help her through the burn. The maiden lifted a hand to her face to hide her grimace, and she fanned herself with a hand.

Lady grinned. “How’s that to wake you up on a warm, lazy day?”

“I think I prefer water,” Kyrie wheezed as she caught her breath.

“That’s fair, darlin’,” Trish replied sweetly. She replaced Kyrie’s shot glass with a taller mug filled with water. As Kyrie cupped her mug of water with both hands, Trish refilled her own and Lady’s shot glasses with some of the weaker stuff. It was too early in the day to get drunk. “So tell me, dove. Where are you from and what brings you all the way to Fortuna?”

“Well,” Kyrie started, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “My brother and I are originally from England. We didn’t have very much, and after serving in the war with the French, brother came home...different. He wasn’t wounded in body, but I could see that something in his heart had changed. Pastoral country life no longer appealed to him, and with so little of a fortune or prospects, I wasn’t suitable for London life. So, we came to America, hoping to try life again. When we arrived in New York, we were worried that we’d made a poor decision.”

The maiden giggled and shook her head. “The culture of America was for too different than what we expected. New York and London may be beasts of the same breed, but my goodness it was still so intimidating! But it wasn’t what he was wanting. I could see it, like something under his skin was crawling to be free.”

Lady and Trish exchanged a glance, but said nothing, letting Kyrie continue uninterrupted.

“Credo made sure I was comfortable before he continued westward without me. What he was looking for, I was never sure. But whatever it was, he must have found it in Fortuna. Once he was settled here, I began receiving letters and telegrams from him. He seemed happier with each writing, detailing his adventures and his career here. I missed him so much that I begged him to allow me to join him, but he was hesitant. He was worried that it wasn’t safe for me here. Eventually he relented, instructing me to contact him when I reached St Louis. So, that’s what I did.”

She sighed dreamily. “Pittsburg, Cincinnati, Vincennes, St Louis...It was quite the adventure travelling across the states! I felt like the heroine of a lady’s novel! I’ve been living in St Louis for the last year, and then his latest telegram arrived. Oh I was so excited to finally come to Fortuna that I took the first train that I could! I sent him a telegram at the station before I left to let him know that I was on my way, and to expect to meet me. I just can’t understand why he wasn’t there.”

“He’s got an important job to do,” Lady said with a shrug. “Knowing him, Credo’s probably out patrolling the city limits, making sure the protection wards are still active. The man’s out of his office more than he’s in.”

The maiden nodded, sipping her water. Still, her smile didn’t seem to shine as bright as it had before.

“How were you able to afford to move so often?” Trish asked, genuinely curious.

“I found work wherever I went,” Kyrie replied with a shy smile. She shrugged a little, her attention returning to the mug in her hands. “I know brother wouldn’t approve if he learned that I’ve become a working woman, but I felt so guilty spending the money he’d mail to me without having earned a living of my own. I’ve mended costumes in theaters and dance halls, wiped down tables and swept floors in taverns…” The maiden giggled softly and shook her head. “I could go on and on, but I fear I’ve talked too much.”

“Not at all.” Trish found she could listen to the sound of Kyrie’s voice all day. She glanced at her partner and saw that Lady was just as infatuated with the girl as Trish felt herself. The blonde cleared her throat and threw back another drink. After a moment, she brought the conversation back to the maiden’s employment. “Being an American working girl and an English lady of breeding, you must have acquired quite the list of skills.”

Kyrie sat up a bit, beaming quite proudly. “I have a thorough knowledge of singing, drawing, dancing, and sewing. I can do both basic and advanced arithmetic, and I can write in formal calligraphy and simple print. While brother was away at war, I assisted in the management of our estate.” She giggled once more, the sound like music to Trish. “And since coming to America, I’ve learned several card games, how to play billiards, and I’m getting better at darts. Though I do admit, I am awful at it.” Her smile faded and her eyes fell sheepishly to her glass once more. “If I must, I can launder and scrub dishes.”

Lady rested a gentle hand on Kyrie’s, turning the maiden’s hand so that Lady may run her fingers over the inside of Kyrie’s palm. “Your hands are far too delicate for dishes or laundry work,” Lady cooed with a smile. A blush bloomed on Kyrie’s face as her knuckles were brought to Lady’s lips. Trish had to do her best not to snicker or roll her eyes. “And your face is too pretty to hide in the kitchen or cellar, refilling bottles. Tell me dove, would you feel comfortable waiting on tables?”

The maiden chewed on her plush bottom lip in thought. “I’m not sure if I’d be available to do so. You see, Credo mentioned in his telegram that he needed a secretary at the sheriff’s office, and…”

Whatever else she was about to say fluttered away as the swinging doors of the saloon burst open and Sheriff Credo stormed in.


	2. Chapter 2

Sheriff Credo’s spurs jangled against the hardwood floor, and he stopped short when his eyes fell on Kyrie at the bar. His white coat and pants were dusty from his ride; he still had his sword at his side and his rifle on his back. Kyrie smiled at the sight of her brother, and his scowl softened as their gazes met. Kyrie hopped off of her stool and ran to him. To Trish’s surprise, he dashed to meet her. His wide-brimmed hat and her bonnet both fell to the floor as they collided in a tight embrace. Brother lifted sister with ease off the floor, spinning her several times as they laughed in their excitement. Without her bonnet pinned to her hair, Kyrie’s auburn ringlets tumbled about, springing loose from her coiled bun.

He set her onto her feet, holding her at arm’s length to look her over. “Kyrie! What on Earth are you doing  _ here _ ?!” Credo leaned close and smelled. “And is that  _ whiskey _ on your breath?”

“Brother, please. I’m a grown woman. I’m allowed one drink at the very least. And you never complained when I had wine with dinner back home!” Kyrie sighed and tried to smile, but it wasn’t as bright now, even with Credo’s brewing rage to contrast it. “As for what I’m doing here, I received your telegram telling me to come to Fortuna. That it was safe and you’d found work for me. Did you not receive my own message that I was coming?”

His scowl grew darker with every word, his furrowed brows only sharpening his hawk-like nose and widow’s peak. Credo shook his head. “Kyrie, I have neither sent a telegram nor received one. The last correspondence I sent was two months ago. A letter with a bit of money. But not a telegram.”

Now her brows knitted into a look of confusion. “Well, that would explain you not being at the station to pick me up...But  _ someone _ must have sent it. Here!” She went to her trunk and opened it enough to get a little handbag out. Kyrie dug through it for a moment to retrieve a folded paper, handing it to him. As his eyes skimmed over it, she smiled weakly. “I was so happy to have heard from you again. I was beginning to worry that something had happened…”

“I didn’t send this,” Credo interrupted her, shaking his head. “I was at Mullet Pass, settling a mining dispute the time and day this was sent. And if you sent a telegram in return, I never received it.”

“Could someone have intercepted it at the telegraph office?” Trish asked, interested in this new mystery.

“Impossible!” Credo hissed. “How would anyone have known she would be sending one to me?”

The blonde shrugged. “If someone sent the telegraph in your name, who’s to say they wouldn’t wait long enough for one back?”

Credo’s eyes narrowed on her at the thought. He shook his head, returning his attention to Kyrie. “You  _ must _ go back to St Louis, immediately. It’s not safe for you here. Between the demons and the bandits -”

“Demons?” Kyrie’s eyes went wide at the word. “Brother, you never wrote to me about  _ demons _ .”

He sighed heavily. “I didn’t want to frighten or worry you. Please, you must go back. I won’t be able to protect you if something should happen.”

“We could keep an eye on her,” Lady offered.

Trish smiled gently at him. “It wouldn’t be any trouble at all.”

Her kindness only seemed to anger him more. Trish could feel his power simmering beneath his cold glare. A breeze caught his white coat, ruffling the tail of it like feathers bristling on an angry bird of prey. 

“You two stay out of this,” Credo snarled at them. “You’ve done enough damage by allowing her into your house of sin.”

Kyrie placed gentle hands on his chest. “Brother, please,” she begged him quietly. Her eyes were wide and shimmered with building tears. “I can’t go back to St Louis. I’ve spent all that I had to get here. If you send me away again, I’ll be forced to go all the way back to England, and then I may never see you again.” 

The man drew a heavy breath and sighed it out slowly, closing his eyes. He gathered her hands in his as he calmed down, the feathers at the tails of his coat becoming fabric once more. Credo’s voice was pained as he leaned close to his sister, the maiden standing on tiptoes to touch her forehead to his. 

“I never should have allowed you to come to America,” Credo whispered to her. Trish had to strain to hear their quietly exchanged words, and she knew she’d have to tell her partner later what was said. “This country is too dark for someone of your light.”

She smiled at him, her own eyes closed at their nearness. “As if I would have allowed you to abandon me.”

He chuckled. “Still stubborn as ever.”

“I’m here now, dear brother.”

“Kyrie, I’m afraid.”

“You weren’t afraid when you left me in New York. You weren’t afraid when I traveled to St Louis on my own.”

“That was different.”

“How? How is it any different than my being here?”

“There weren’t…” Credo sighed and growled in the same breath.

“Tell me.”

“I can’t...I can’t  _ be _ who I need to be when you’re near.”

Her eyes opened and she took a step back from him, her brows knitting once more. “What do you mean?”

“Kyrie, I…”

Trish’s boots clicked against the hardwood floor as she came up to them, leaning on a table beside them. “It means he can’t do his job if he’s worried about what you’re doing, who you’re with…”

“I’ll be  _ here _ ,” Kyrie said with a smile, as if she were stating the obvious. “I’ll have chaperones, and the men here can’t be any different than the ones in the city.”

“It’s not the men I’m worried about,” Credo grumbled. “You don’t understand…”

“Demons again...” The maiden shook her head. “I’ll be safe here, brother. Even if demons were real, certainly there are people here who would protect me in your stead.”

“If?  _ If _ ? Kyrie, there is no  _ if _ about it. Demons  _ are _ real, and my duty is to protect Fortuna from them. Every day, dark powers threaten the peace of this country.”

“Oh Credo, maybe you should come back to England with me…”

“I can’t just  _ leave _ . I have a duty here. And…” Credo stopped himself short of speaking his thoughts, dismissing them and those unspoken words with a shake of his head. “I have enemies here, Kyrie. Enemies that would use you against me should it become known that you are my sister.”

“Then I’ll defend myself! You know I’m capable of doing so should the need arise.”

“Against an ordinary man, yes! I believe you are fully capable of defending yourself against any man!”

“Even that man?” Trish asked, jerking her thumb towards the still-sleeping Dante.

Credo’s scowl returned. “ _ Especially _ that man. But that is besides the point. Kyrie, even if you were safe, a woman of your breeding doesn’t belong in a place like Fortuna. There are ruffians and scoundrels here, and a place like a saloon is no place for a young lady. Women who work in saloons and bars don’t exactly have the best...reputation.”

She yanked her hands from his and stood up straight, visibly offended. “If you cared about my reputation, then you  _ should _ have left me in England! Since coming to America, I have worked alongside these women that you claim to have soiled reputations, and I assure you each one of them has just as good of a heart as any woman of breeding back home. And with that in mind…” Kyrie stepped past him and grabbed the handle of her trunk, lifting it. Her eyes turned to Trish, and in that moment, the maiden was not a child or a girl. She was a woman who radiated power and prestige. “I’ve made my decision. I  _ will _ stay in Fortuna, and I  _ will _ accept your job offer. If you have any need of me, I will be up in  _ my _ room, unpacking!”

The maiden ascended the staircase before anyone could stop her, the slamming of her door putting an end to any further conversation on the topic. Trish couldn’t help but smirk a bit, feeling a little proud. Even Lady was grinning.

Credo sighed tiredly and bent low, scooping up both his hat and Kyrie’s forgotten bonnet. The latter was offered to Trish, and he dusted off his own hat as he spoke. “I am entrusting you to watch over her,” he said lowly to her. It almost pained her at how defeated he sounded. Almost. “Kyrie is very precious to me. She is the last family I have, the last light…”

“She’ll be safe, Credo,” Trish assured him gently, hugging Kyrie’s bonnet to her bosom. “I wouldn’t have approached her if I thought that she was weak.” She chewed on her words for a moment, unsure of how to ask such a sensitive thing. “She doesn’t know, does she? That you…”

“Trish, I’m begging you. She may be her own woman, but she doesn’t understand Fortuna. She doesn’t understand what it is we face, nor the rules that come with living on the edge of darkness. Please. Keep her safe, and keep her pure. Let her dance, let her serve drinks, let her play games to her heart’s delight, but...no pearls.”

The blonde smiled, daring to reach to him. She placed a hand on his arm, giving his bicep a gentle squeeze. She knew his pain, but how could she tell him that? How could she make him understand that once upon a long time ago, she once had to stand there and let go of the ones she loved? Maybe he felt that, because she saw the worry in his eyes begin to fade away. 

Trish gave him a nod. “No pearls for Kyrie.”

Credo said nothing further, donning on his hat. He was suddenly no longer an older brother, loving and wounded and worried. Now he was the strict, formal sheriff and man of the law. He tipped his hat to her and Lady before he strode out.


	3. Chapter 3

The church bell rang four times with the hour. One after another, the doors of the third and fourth floor opened as Trish’s girls gathered for their dinner before work. She stood at the banister of the second floor, looking down over her saloon. They passed her with hardly a word as they went to the kitchen where the other ladies had cooked a meal that they would all share together. She followed the last woman down to the kitchen and made up a little tray for Kyrie from the small buffet the cooks had made for them. Trish smiled to herself as they talked and served themselves, taking their plates out to the saloon to eat at the empty tables. Trish loved every one of her girls. She’d die for them. She’d _kill_ for them. They were her friends and her family. They were her lovers and her sisters. And most importantly, they were her employees. They didn’t have to be told what to do. They knew their place at the Desert Rose, each woman an oiled cog that kept the machine running.

She left them gossiping and carried a tray of food and tea up to Kyrie’s door, pausing only to grab the maiden’s bonnet before knocking on the solid wood.

“Come in,” Kyrie murmured, so quietly that Trish almost didn’t hear her.

Trish balanced the tray on one hand as the other opened Kyrie’s door enough for her to slip in. The maiden sat on her bed with her back to her door, and though her trunk sat next to the little complimentary cabinet, the wardrobe was dismally empty. Aside from her pink walking coat, only one other dress hung on the rail inside, and Trish could only imagine that the maiden had one set of spare undergarments. A light square of cotton sat folded on her pillow, and judging by the floral print on it, Trish assumed this was her nightgown.

She set the tray of food on Kyrie’s night stand and stood in front of her, offering the maiden her forgotten bonnet. Kyrie accepted it without a word, setting it on her lap. The blonde wasn’t a fool. Even with her head bowed, Trish could see that Kyrie had been crying; her nose was pink, and the undersides of her eyes were puffy. Nothing a little powder couldn’t fix, assuming the maiden would agree to being painted.

“You don’t have to work,” Trish broke the quiet between them. “You’re welcome to stay as a guest. And since you don’t have much money, Lady and I can add it to Credo’s tab.”

Kyrie’s curls bounced as she shook her head. “I never enjoyed sitting around, doing nothing. Even in England, I had difficulty sitting still.” She lifted her chin to face Trish, smiling as brightly as the warm sun in winter. “I want to work. I want to wipe down tables and dance with gentlemen. I want to play billiards with them and listen to their stories. I want…” Her eyes drifted back down to her bonnet in her hands. “I want to bring them a little bit of happiness and comfort…”

“To ease your own loneliness?”

The maiden’s attention snapped up, and Trish could see by the look in her startled eyes that she’d hit a nerve. Trish sat beside her on the bed, leaning close to the maiden. To her surprise, Kyrie leaned nearer in return until the maiden’s head rested against Trish’s shoulder. It took all of her willpower not to wrap an arm around Kyrie’s shoulders and hold her against her body. They had only met hours ago, but already Trish could feel a flower budding in her heart, growing more vibrant and ready to bloom. It was her fatal flaw; Trish had a soft spot for women in need. No matter their circumstances, she always saw herself in them.

“I didn’t have any friends in England,” Kyrie whispered against Trish’s chest. “Other girls my age were silly and only interested in marriage. As they married, one by one, I felt more and more alone. And after Credo came back from the war...He didn’t smile as much. He didn’t laugh like he used to. And at night, he would scream. He would have such horrible nightmares that I lost so much sleep taking care of him. I had hoped coming to America would help heal him, and it _has_...but...but I…” She sniffled.

Trish found her discarded handkerchief and placed it in Kyrie’s hand as she felt her shoulder become wet with newly shed tears.

“American women are so _different_ ,” the maiden squeaked between her tears. “And yet so much the same. Even in New York, I had trouble making friends because I was British and unmarried. The only friends I had were the ones I made while working, but after hours, they shunned me. It was as if as soon as I crossed the threshold, I was no longer their colleague. Just...competition.”

The blonde smiled to herself at a thought and pulled away from Kyrie, standing. She held out her hands for Kyrie to take, and pulled the maiden to her feet.

“I can’t speak for all of my girls,” Trish confided in the maiden, “but I can promise you this. Lady and I want to be your friend. We want to help you get on your feet, and we want you to stay here in Fortuna.”

Kyrie’s eyes were as wide as a doe’s. “Really? Do you truly mean that?”

“Yes. And as your friend, it is my duty to extend my circle to you and introduce you to other friends.” Trish’s smile grew, and she felt her heart flutter as Kyrie returned it with her own glow. “If you are going to work here, then you should meet and get to know all of your coworkers. Come. It’s silly of you to have dinner by yourself when you could be dining in the fine company of other women.”

Giggling, Kyrie let the blonde lead her by the hand out of her small room and downstairs.

The tables of the saloon were filled with women. A few sat with Dante at his table, chatting with him idly between bites. His hat hung on the corner of his chair in a rare show of etiquette. At the sight of Trish descending the staircase, conversations faded away and all eyes turned to her and the maiden at her side.

“Ladies of the Desert Rose,” Trish addressed them. “This is Kyrie Eleison. She will be joining us in our garden to bring life, beauty, and comfort to Fortuna. I ask that all of you show the same compassion, kindness, and patience that has been granted to you, and that you help her fit in here. Like you, I know that her flower will only make Fortuna all the more prosperous.”

The ladies applauded daintily, and Kyrie bobbed a little curtsey beside Trish. As the applause faded, Trish led the maiden around the saloon, introducing her one table at a time to each of the ladies. Doing so, Trish saw them as Kyrie did. In all, Trish employed twenty four women. Twelve of them rotated between working in the kitchen and on the saloon floor. These had homes of their own, living with brothers and fathers until they found their fortune or their future with a husband or career. They wore colorful dresses of cotton and lace, dresses that they could dance in and look pretty in, and if they must, serve drinks in. The ones on kitchen duty for the day were dressed in plain calico dresses that could endure the strain of washing dishes, cooking, and cleaning.

The other twelve wore hardly anything at all. They wore sheer nightgowns under light dressing gowns, smoked cigarettes as they ate, and were adorned with a velvet choker that had a single pearl drop dangling against their clavicle. They wore powder on their faces and paint on their lips to hide the bags under their eyes and the lines in their face caused by their work. Three of these painted ladies in nightwear sat with Dante as Trish and Kyrie made the rounds of introductions.

“And this is Dante,” Trish said with a gesture to the gentleman.

He nodded deeply to Kyrie as she curtsied to him.

“As well as maintaining his own business of monster hunting and chasing bounties, he’s our bouncer. He helps keep the peace inside the saloon.”

Kyrie blinked between them. “I thought that was Credo’s job.”

Dante chuckled gently at her. “The sheriff’s jurisdiction ends at the door. In here, we have our own laws, our own codes, and our own corporal punishment.”

“Oh my. Then I suppose it would be rather negligent of me to expect a man on duty to dance.”

He grinned and looked away, his handsome profile decorated with a light embarrassed blush. “As a matter of fact, Miss Kyrie, I would be delighted to dance with you. But not on a full stomach, of course.”

“But of course. Later then, when the music has started and the dance floor looks less lonely.”

“Later,” he agreed with a charming smile.

Afterwards, she led the maiden into the kitchen to get a fresh plate of food. Kyrie chewed on her bottom lip in thought as she scooped rice, beans, meat, and vegetables into little tortillas on her plate.

“What’s the matter?” Trish asked her quietly.

“The ladies with the pearls...There’s something different about them, isn’t there?”

“You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“I heard you and brother talking about them earlier. ‘No pearls for Kyrie.’ What does that mean?”

She sighed as she freed her hands to pour water for herself and the maiden, her eyes low. “I didn’t want to make you worry too much about it, which is why I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“Miss Trish…”

“Just Trish is fine, darling.”

“Trish.” The way the woman’s name was spoken made her lift her gaze to meet Kyrie’s. The maiden glowed with that fierce aura of strength and determination. “If I am to work for you, I _must_ know what that work entails. Keeping secrets from me for the sake of my innocence will only cause me to perform poorly when I am expected to do my best. Now please. Tell me.”

“The girls with the pearls are prostitutes,” Trish answered, the words spilling from her lips without restraint. If she had had any doubt before if the girl had magic in her, now Trish knew for certain. “Like any other animal, men have their hungers, and for a price, my pearls can satisfy them. The men know this. They should keep their hands to themselves if they see you are just a maiden. But if the pearls are between men, they will sometimes come downstairs and mingle. Sometimes they’ll dance. If any man should try to grope you or solicit you for an evening, direct their attention to one of the girls with pearls. Or send them to Lady or I, and we’ll handle the situation personally.”

Kyrie nodded and chewed on her thoughts as well as her food. She didn’t speak again of the subject as they ate standing in the kitchen. One by one, the other girls came in, either to refill their plates or to set them in a neat stack by the sink to be washed. The women wearing very little went back to their rooms on the third and fourth floors, and the women in the colorful clothing positioned themselves around the saloon, ready to give company when and where it was needed.

Her own meal finished, Trish set her plate to the side and clapped her hands clean. Kyrie used a rag to clean her own hands and lips.

“Now then,” Kyrie spoke before her companion. “We’ve discussed and agreed that I will work here. What is it you wish for me to do exactly?”

Trish grinned and took her by the hand once more. “First things first,” she told her new protege. “Let’s get you changed into something more appropriate. If you’re going to be a true blue wild west saloon girl, then you need to look the part. As darling as your English attire is, our patrons will want something more at home.” Kyrie giggled as Trish booped the maiden’s little button nose with a finger. “Luckily, I have just the thing for you, and in your size.”

The maiden laughed as she gathered her skirts in one hand and let Trish lead her by the other, back to the staircase. They ascended all the way up to the fourth floor, to a door that was closed and cool to the touch. Inside was the dark and musty attic. Here were all the unused tables and chairs, extra cabinets and furniture draped with sheets to keep the dust off. Here were cracked mirrors and broken frames, things needing repair or replacement and were forgotten. Here were the trunks of spare costumes and clothes. Trish let go of Kyrie’s hand to throw open a window, letting in fresh air and light, and then went digging through the trunks one at a time. Kyrie held out her arms as Trish loaded her down with layer after layer of cloth.

Trish clapped the dust from her hands. “Alright, darling. Off you go! Give yourself a good washing, too, before you change. Lady should be ready in a few minutes to show you how to pin up your hair and powder your nose. And go lightly on your rose water perfume. Men around here like the way a woman smells on her own, without perfume or soaps.”

“How barbaric,” Kyrie whispered with a shiver and smile.

She giggled as Trish turned her by her shoulders, and the maiden squeaked as Trish gave her tooshie a gentle spank to send her forward. The blonde closed the attic door behind them and followed the maiden downstairs to the second floor landing.

There, Kyrie hesitated.

“Trish…” She said the woman’s name gently. “If…” Kyrie rolled her words around, tasting them one last time before speaking. “If I had not been Credo’s sister, would I have been asked to wear pearls?”

Trish’s gaze fell to Kyrie’s boots. “Yes,” she confessed. “When Lady and I saw you coming down the street, looking so lost and unsure, our first thought was to hire you as a barmaid and prostitute. But learning you were Credo’s sister gave me second thoughts.” The blonde shook her head. “I’m not going to ask you to do that, Kyrie.” The woman smiled, a touch of sadness adding years to her beauty. “I know that life. I know what it does to a woman. It’s not a freedom. It’s not a career. It’s a death sentence. And you’re too sweet for that. You have too much promise. You have a future. Most of the men that come in here are dirty, smelly scoundrels that would like nothing more than to tear a beautiful thing like you apart. My girls have chosen this life because they had no other choice. You have a choice. You’re young and accomplished. I’ll be surprised if you’re not swept off your feet by a charming young rider or gambler by the end of the month. My girls on the other hand…” Her smile fell to sadness. “My girls know how to tame the beasts in the heart of men.”

“And you’re assuming that I don’t.”

“Kyrie, I can tell at a glance whether or not a woman has lain with a man.”

“Oh? And what can you tell about me in that glance?”

The blonde quirked an eyebrow at her. Kyrie was a headstrong, stubborn little filly. Trish smirked as she closed the short distance between her and Kyrie. She felt the maiden tense as Trish leaned into her, curling an arm around her slender waist to pull her flush against Trish’s body. Their hips met in a gentle bump, and she pulled Kyrie as close as the bundle of clothes in her arms would allow. A finger under Kyrie’s chin tilted her head up to meet Trish’s electric blue eyes. She knew they were an inhuman color, more brilliant than _her_ eyes were. She could feel Kyrie’s breath against her face and neck, coming out in short, quick, silent gasps through her nose.

“English girls,” Trish whispered so near to Kyrie’s lips that she could almost taste them, “like to hold onto their virginity for as long as they can. You, my little sweetling, are no different. Tell me the truth, little one. If I were to kiss you now, would I be stealing your first?”

“Yes,” Kyrie whispered, her lips parting to speak the word.

Trish shook her head. “It would be such a shame to let your first kiss be taken by a filthy cowpoke with rotten teeth.” Her hand cupped Kyrie’s neck, her thumb brushing the vein at her throat. She felt the maiden’s pulse quicken. The woman chuckled lowly to herself. “Tell me, my dear. Tell me what you were thinking.”

“I...I was wondering…” Her eyes darted from Trish’s gaze to her lips, and then to her bare throat. “Do you wear pearls too?”

“I do, darling. I haven’t gotten changed yet. But Lady and I wear pearls as well, and our rates are the same as any of the other girls.” What she didn’t tell Kyrie was that it was rare for Trish to have to fill in for one of her girls upstairs. She was old, older than all of her other prostitutes, and the men knew that. And as beautiful as she was, she was branded. All of the men knew of her husband, and his reputation both protected and damned Trish. Even if she no longer wore her wedding band, her skin was still pale where it sat on her hand all those years ago.

Kyrie nodded and shrugged easily out of Trish’s grasp. “I should go get dressed...Thank you. For everything.”

Trish tried not to look as hurt as she felt, her alluring aura dismissed so easily. Perhaps she was losing her touch if Kyrie wasn’t drawn in as others had been. Trish chuffed quietly, watching Kyrie disappear behind the closed door of her room. She shook a thought out of her mind and knocked on the door leading to the room she shared with Lady before entering.

Her partner was already dressed up, pinning up a white feather in her short, chocolate hair. Trish leaned against the closed door of their room, her eyes raking over Lady’s figure. Lady’s corset and costume was white with black lace trimmings; a mirror to Trish’s own clothes that she’d be wearing later. A black choker decorated her neck, her own pearl drop gold in the gaslight. She didn’t believe in bows, so she didn’t wear any. Nor did she believe in pantaloons or bloomers, so she didn’t wear anything under the layers of cotton, tule, and petticoats.

Noticing her partner was present, Lady smirked and slowly hiked up her skirts higher to tighten her garter belt and make sure her stockings were clipped in place. Trish hummed and licked her lips at the sight of Lady’s smooth and powdered womanhood. Giggling, Lady let go of her skirts to cover herself from her partner’s gaze.

“Later,” Lady promised as she stepped up to meet Trish, wrapping her arms around Trish’s shoulders.

Trish’s hands fell naturally onto Lady’s hips. “I might not be in the mood later.”

“Oh, something tells me you will be.”

Still her hands began to bunch up Lady’s skirts, pulling them ever slowly up her thighs. Lady shivered as she felt the cloth brush against her sensitive skin. “You’re such an awful tease.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints yet.”

“Can I trust you to behave for our new little flower? Or am I going to have to put a leash around that pretty neck of yours?”

Lady’s lips parted to answer, but a wanton moan slid from her painted lips as Trish grasped her hindquarters with both firm hands. She pressed her bosom to the blonde’s so hard that Trish could feel the knife hidden in Lady’s corset. “I could ask the same of you,” Lady whispered heatedly. “Miss ‘I can tell who has experience at a glance’.”

“So you heard our little conversation.”

“You were going to steal her kiss, weren’t you?”

“I was tempted to ask her if I could buy it, if I knew she wouldn’t have run away.”

“The night is still young. You might get that chance yet.”

“Credo would kill me.”

“He’d have to get through me first.”

“Oh, he’d have a bullet with your name on it too, if he knew what I knew. That you want her too, just as badly.”

“I hope I’m not making you jealous.”

“You’re not, my love.”

“Trish…” Lady’s smile fell, her heterochromatic eyes going to Trish’s throat. To where she knew Trish’s pearl would hang. “I’m serious. I don’t want _this_ ...I don’t want _her_ to get between us. I just want to play with her, you know? I mean...you know that...that I…”

The blonde smiled and pressed her lips to Lady’s, silencing her partner’s doubts and worries. She felt Lady shiver against her as she dug her fingers into the softness of Lady’s fleshy backside. As their tongues met, Trish could taste the coffee still lingering in Lady’s mouth. Her human partner was gasping for breath as Trish released her lips to kiss along Lady’s neck and whisper in her ear.

“A hundred men haven’t come between us yet,” Trish assured her softly. A hand slid around Lady’s thigh, giving her a squeeze before her fingers slid between Lady’s legs. The brunette shifted her stance, spreading her legs to give Trish more room to work. She sighed happily as Trish’s fingers rubbed against her folds, already wet with want. “Nor could a thousand men in our lifetimes. Our bond is strong enough to endure an army. Our bond is strong enough that toying with one maiden, playing with a sweet virgin, will not break us apart.”

Lady’s whole body quivered, though whether it was because of Trish’s words or the soft pad of her finger drawing circles on the brunette’s clit, she could only guess. Lady smiled and bit her bottom lip to hold back a moan. “Are you okay with that?” She asked between gasps. “Are you okay with just playing with her? Or do you think you’re going to end up attached?”

Trish didn’t answer. Instead, she ducked out of Lady’s hold. Lady cried out in ecstasy as the blonde’s lips and tongue devoured her. Her hands tangled in Trish’s hair, holding her in place. The brunette didn’t bother trying to keep quiet; the Desert Rose was a brothel as well after all. The songs of sex were not unfamiliar tunes to the visitors down below. Trish knew her partner well enough that she knew where to suck, where to lick, how to snake her tongue _just right_ to make Lady sing.

And she could tell that Lady had been _wanting_ for a while, because of how quickly she came against Trish’s mouth. The blonde felt every jolt, every spasm, every pulse of her quivering body as Lady reached her peak with a shuddering gasp. With her legs spread, Lady dripped onto the woman beneath her and onto the floor.

She pulled her lips free and gave Lady’s clit one last loving kiss before she let go of Lady’s skirts, letting them fall back down her thighs to her knees. She stood up into Lady’s waiting arms. Much to her surprise and delight, Lady grabbed her face and pulled Trish into a hungry kiss. Trish moaned softly as their lips and tongues collided. She swirled her tongue against her partner’s, tasting herself on Trish. It was almost enough to drive her wild, but there was work to be done. As Lady had promised, it would have to wait until later.

They were both breathless when Lady finally let Trish pull away.

Lady smirked a bit. “You never answered my question.”

“Go wash up,” Trish commanded weakly. “You still need to help Kyrie get ready.”

“You trust me to keep from molesting her after that? After getting me all warmed up?”

“You’re a professional, darling. And she hasn’t paid for you.”

“Yet.”


	4. Chapter 4

Trish was downstairs, dressed in her black corset and skirts with white lace trimmings. She had first worn black to mourn her late husband; now she wore it because she looked damn fine in black. The blonde heard Kyrie’s door open, the clacking of heels on hardwood floor, and muffled giggling. Lady’s voice called down. “Close your eyes!”

Instead, the blonde rolled them, smiling to herself. She brought her black lace fingerless gloves to her face, covering her eyes with her fingers without smudging her make-up. “Alright! My eyes are closed and covered!” 

Dante, awake and at the bar, called up. “Do I have to close mine too?”

“Nah, you’re good.”

Trish could hear his grin. The man was already two drinks in for the evening, but Trish knew him well enough to know that his gun hand was still steady and his ability with a sword was unhindered. She heard him smack the arm of the patron beside him, a mercenary between jobs, and she heard them turn in their seats.

The wood floorboards creaked under Kyrie’s weight as she descended the staircase, not quite used to American-style dresses. Trish’s lips pressed into a thin line, her heart speeding in her chest. How would Kyrie look? The gown she was wearing once belonged to Trish, when she had first arrived in Fortuna and newly wed to her first and only husband. Did the corset fit the maiden right? Were the skirts too big? If her hands hadn’t been occupied with covering her eyes, she would have rubbed the pearl coin at her throat in worry. She listened with interest to each step down the stairs, mentally following Kyrie around to the front of the bar, across from Trish. Dante whistled in appreciation, and Kyrie giggled.

“You can open your eyes now!” Kyrie exclaimed.

Trish lowered her hands, gasping at the sight of Kyrie twirling in her “new” dress. The blonde’s eyes assessed her from head to toe. Her auburn hair was pinned up in an American style bun, decorated by soft cream-colored fabric flowers. Her hair seemed to change colors in the gaslight as she moved her head; at this angle it was golden blonde, at that angle it was a fiery red, at another angle it was a gentle brown. White rose stud earrings decorated her lobes, and her face had been powdered enough to give her cheeks and nose a shimmer. Her lips were painted with pale pink, a shade brighter than her natural color. The choker around her neck was a ribbon of chocolate brown with cream lace, matching her elbow-length fingerless gloves. A little purse about the size of her fist dangled from her left wrist, made from the same fabric as her gown. Her sleeves were off-shoulder, exposing her neck and shoulders to hungry eyes and thirsty lips; her corset was tied tight enough to support the petticoats underneath her gown. The chocolate brown cotton seemed to sparkle, and the cream-colored lace accents gave her more warmth. The bottom hem touched the floor when she let go of her skirts to hide her face as she giggled in modest embarrassment under Trish and Dante’s gazes.

“I’d ask ‘How do I look’, but it seems you are too stunned to answer,” Kyrie told her boss as she came up to Dante’s elbow and rested her arms on the bar, leaning forward. 

Trish’s gaze fell to the maiden’s cleavage, her bosom pressed by her arms. The blonde cleared her throat and tore her gaze away, feeling warmth creep up her neck and tickle her loins. “You look fine, Kyrie,” she assured the girl in a monotone as she went back to filling mugs.

Kyrie blinked, her smile sinking. “Oh…”

Dante rolled his eyes. “Little miss, if you don’t mind me saying, but I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. And I’d hate to see it tarnish your night before we’ve even danced.”

Her attention turned to him, sitting up straight in interest. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I can’t help but notice you’ve got a bit of an accent. And while Trish was nice enough to introduce us, she never said where you were from.”

“London, originally.”

He chuckled. “That’s what I thought. See, what Trish doesn’t know is that ‘fine’ doesn’t mean the same thing overseas. But  _ here _ , ‘fine’ means a whole ‘nother thing.”

“Oh?” Kyrie began to smile again as she noticed how embarrassed Trish was starting to look. 

The man nodded, leaning close to her to stage-whisper like two conspiring friends. Trish smiled to herself. As gruff and rough as Dante looked and sometimes acted, he had a soft spot for her girls as bad as she did. It helped that the massive sword clipped to his back wasn’t compensating for any physical inadequacy. If anything, it was a warning to any girl who wanted to  _ ride _ with him, but the maiden didn’t need to know that. Kyrie leaned in as well, her shoulders curling close to her to make little dimples in her collarbone. Trish had to bite her tongue to keep from licking her lips.

“Ya see, back in jolly ol’ England, fine means good enough. But here? Fine means  _ very _ good. Exceptional. Exquisite. So if someone calls you fine, don’t think it means you’re plain. Because I promise you, little miss, you are  _ mighty _ fine. It means you’re pretty darn gorgeous, and you’ll be hard pressed to find a man or woman that’ll disagree.”

Kyrie smiled as her eyes shyly fell to the bar’s countertop. “Thank you, sir. You’ll have to forgive me if I seem speechless. I’m not used to being paid such high compliments.”

Dante tipped his hat to her with a grin. “Then I guess it’s my duty to pay you compliments all evenin’ until you’re used to it. That way when someone else does it, you’ll know what to say.”

Trish lightly smacked him with a bartowel. “You can’t hog her all evening. I’m not in the mood to settle fights or clean up broken furniture tonight.”

He chuckled a bit and offered his elbow to Kyrie anyway. “Well,  _ somebody  _ promised she’d dance with me.”

The maiden giggled once more and hooked her arm into his. “Just one dance to start.”

“Only after he’s paid!” Trish reminded them both. “It’s a dollar a dance, and fifty cents for a drink afterwards.”

Grumbling, Dante dug through his pockets and found his wallet, bringing out a crumbly dollar. He handed it to Kyrie, who tucked it into her little money purse. As they headed to the dance floor of the saloon, Trish smiling to herself and shook her head. Kyrie, it seemed, was going to fit in fine.

Dante was Kyrie’s partner for three dances in a row before they returned to the bar, grinning and out of breath.  _ Of course they’d be thick as thieves _ , she thought with a smirk as they talked excitedly over beer and water. By now the saloon had filled with patrons to the point that Trish had difficulty hearing the piano man at the other end of the building, keeping things lively for the dancers while the drinkers and the gamblers entertained themselves. She had to strain to listen above the low murmur of conversation, the stampede of heels and boots against the floor, and the clatter of glasses on the tables. She saw her ladies in laps, dancing with partners, and sitting beside gamblers and players; she saw her ladies serving drinks, whispering in ears, and leading grinning men up to their rooms. 

Trish smiled to herself as she finished loading down a tray with filled shot glasses and mugs of beer. “Alright, sweetling. Since you’re between dances, I’ll put you to work.” Kyrie nodded and stood up straight, smoothing down a few wrinkles in her dress. Trish slid the tray of drinks towards her. “Shots are fifty cents, beer is a dollar. And don’t let them talk you into a tab. All drinks are paid up front, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kyrie said with a nod, sliding the tray closer to herself with both hands.

“When you’re all done selling drinks, start gathering empty glasses. But don’t overload yourself! Don’t take more than you can carry. Patrons can wait for cleared tables, and by the end of the night, they won’t care. Just bring what you can, and I’ll empty your tray. Then you can go back to dancing for a few rounds or playing games.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If anyone asks about the good stuff, you send them to me. If anyone asks about food, you send them to me. And -”

“Miss Trish…” Kyrie interrupted her by hefting the tray up on her shoulder with one hand, as if it weighed nothing at all. Her other hand gathered her skirts. “I may be an English girl, but this  _ isn’t _ my first rodeo.” With a wink, Kyrie swished her skirts as she turned to walk away.

Dante chuckled at her retreating back, waiting until Kyrie had gotten to work and out of earshot before speaking. “Cute girl. Where’d you find her?”

Trish pulled her jaw up off the counter and shook her head, getting back to filling glasses for the other girls’ trays. “Spotted her coming down the street from the station.”

“I gotta say, I like her. I like her a lot, Trish.”

“Yes, well don’t go getting ideas. That’s Sheriff Credo’s sister you’re thinking about.”

“His sister, huh…” Despite her warning not to, Dante looked like he was having ideas anyway. He smiled dreamily as he raised his beer. “She’s not... _ l ike _ him, you know?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted with a sigh. “I’ve only known her for a day. Something like that... Women don’t talk about it the way men do. If she were like him like that, I’ll probably never know, until it’s too late. And besides…” She shook her head. Something Kyrie had said earlier haunted her. “She doesn’t believe in demons, Dante.”

This brought his attention back to Trish. “You mean she’s never seen one?”

“I suppose so.”

“I guess England was more different than I thought. Is that why you don’t have her wearing pearls? Afraid she’ll faint at the first man that turns into a monster on her?”

“No.” She smacked him once more with a dish rag, smirking as he flailed to wipe himself clean. “She’s not wearing pearls because she’s not a whore. Simple as that.”

“Well…” Dante grinned as he returned his attention back to the maiden, lost in the sea of people. “Let me know when you or her or both of you change your minds. Because let me tell you, I’d be the first in line.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” Trish hissed, snapping her small towel at him again. Still, she smiled to herself as she got back to work.

Their patrons came in waves like the tide of distant shores. There would be a burst of activity as new men came in to drink away their day, to converse and conspire over beer and bread, and to sin in greedy gambling and lustful liaisons. Trish kept a close eye on her girls, noting who was bringing in revenue and who was slacking off in leisure. Usually a girl slacking off would see Trish’s pointed stare and change activities, either coming up to the bar to take a tray to serve or dragging a man to the dance floor for a quick dollar. Even Lady was working; she preferred to sit beside gamblers and let their hands wander into her lap between rounds. Trish could see the exact moments they realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath her skirts, making quick excuses to exit a game and be led up stairs to spend their winnings. More than once, Trish had to leave the bar to do the same; she would pull in one of the kitchen girls to pour drinks while Trish provided private, primal entertainment in a room upstairs. 

And then the wave of activity would wane until only a few stragglers remained the bar, the tables, or the dance floor; all of them holding out for one more drink, one more hand, one more dance with a lovely lady. Kyrie more than once needed a moment to catch her breath, leaning against the bar to fan herself. She took these breaks between dances and between serving tables, staying long enough that the sweat evaporated from her skin before she pocketed her fan, took up her tray or a new dance partner, and resumed her duties. 

As she watched the maiden work, Trish believed her earlier boast that this wasn’t her first rodeo. Kyrie was quick and efficient; she came and went to and from the bar with empty glasses faster than the other girls, and she was able to persuade her patrons into the more expensive beers. When she began bringing back empty mugs with shot glasses inside them, Trish’s curiosity got the best of her and she had to investigate. While Kyrie was serving drinks, she snuck up to a table where Kyrie had stopped. The men watched and listened with interest to her sales pitch, calling the concoction “British firebombs”, the latest craze back in London. One man purchased this spectacle, and for a dollar and fifty cents, Kyrie would set out a mug of beer in front of the gentleman. Then she delicately dropped a shot - glass and all - into the mug. The men watched with wonder, oohing and aahing as the beer foamed up to the lip of the mug but didn't spill. And of course, as that first daredevil sipped his drink and declared its deliciousness, his cohorts at the table would order the same. 

When she was finished serving drinks or had ended a dance with a partner, the men always offered to buy her drinks. Trish listened to her plead with them again and again to save their money or to only get her a nickel's worth glass of water. But as the evening progressed and their demands became difficult to curb, Kyrie relented, and wherever she went, she began to carry a bottle with her. Trish watched in horror, unable to stop it from where she was behind the bar, as Kyrie began to take shots with them. Even more horrifying, Kyrie would chase the shot with a swig of the bottled beer, sighing in satisfaction to the cheers of the nearest patrons. This happened again and again, and to Trish’s surprise, no matter the number of drinks or chasers, Kyrie’s energy remained unaffected. She spoke without slurring, walked without stumbling, and danced as steadily as if she hadn’t been drinking at all.

Kyrie left her bottle at the bar once to go dance with a gentleman, and Trish couldn’t help herself. She took the bottle and sniffed the rim, jerking her head back in surprise. The contents didn’t smell of beer, but of the whiskey from the shots. Trish shook her head, replacing the bottle right where she’d found it. Several minutes later, out of breath from dancing, Kyrie and her partner came up to the counter. As per custom, the man bought her a shot and together they tipped it back; Kyrie chasing hers with the beer that she’d left behind. The mercenary tipped his hat to her shakily, she curtsied to him without the slightest wobble, and they watched him retreat from the saloon to find a place to relieve his filled bladder. Kyrie burst into a fit of giggles and accepted another shot glass, this one filled with water.

“Looks like you’re as much of a sneaky devil as the rest of us,” Trish commented to her. “Don’t let your brother find out that I’m letting you drink on the job, or he’ll have more than just my head for it.”

“But I’m not drinking, I swear!” Kyrie pleaded, looking so suddenly serious that she didn’t realize that Trish was teasing her. She took the moment to fan herself. “It’s a little trick I learned while I was in St Louis. They’re too busy enjoying the fact that I drank with them to notice that I spit it back out in the bottle. Between the shots and the ‘British firebombs’, they’re too drunk to notice. And look!” She fanned out the coppers and silvers of the tray she’d returned. “They tend to lose count more quickly when they drink. But they tell me to keep it when I try to give them their miscalculations back.”

“Those are called tips, sweetie,” Trish explained with a smile. “You just keep doing what you’re doing. Bat your eyelashes, dance with them, ‘drink’ with them, and you’ll be buying your own little homestead soon enough.”

Kyrie’s smile fell for a moment, her happiness seeming forced to Trish’s trained eyes. “Yes, of course,” the maiden said softly, her words almost lost to the din of noise around them.

Dante nudged her with an elbow. “How about you take a break from drinking and dancing, and let me teach you how to play billiards.”

She nodded silently and gave him a small smile, hooking her elbow in his to let him lead her away. The pair disappeared in the sea of bodies, leaving Trish to wonder if her innocuous comment had hit a nerve with the maiden. As she refilled mugs and glasses, all Trish could wonder was,  _ If she doesn’t want a homestead or cottage, what  _ does _ she want? _


	5. Chapter 5

The bells began ringing shortly after midnight. It wasn’t the gentle gong of the church bells ringing the hour; after nightfall the church bells were silent. These were shrill and whirring and mechanical, so loud and abruptly echoing through all of Fortuna that Trish flinched and spilled the shot she was pouring. This was no clock going off or celebratory singing.

It was a warning.

At the sound of those bells, the whole saloon was thrown into chaos. Every man, drunk or sober, leaped into action. They dropped their hands of cards. They set aside their drinks. And they replaced those things in hand with weapons. Some ran for the door, out into the street as riders on horses raced past. They yelled and shouted and made chase. Many stayed inside the saloon with their backs pressed against walls beside the windows and doors. The ones that had been dancing helped corral the girls, suddenly terrified out of their pleasant evening. Trish opened a hidden door in the floor behind the counter, and waved her girls toward her. The ones upstairs came stampeding down, their clothes disheveled and their bodies barely covered.

Kyrie caught Trish’s arm as she was pushed with the throng toward the secret door.

“What’s happening?” Kyrie asked, her whole body shaking in alarm at the activity around her.

Trish tried to smile, tried to be gentle and reassuring, but there was no time for that. “Kyrie, please, go with the others. There isn’t time!”

She shook her head, her fingers digging into Trish’s bicep. “No, not without you!”

Lady came up behind her and peeled her off of the blonde. “She’ll be fine! With any luck, it’s nowhere near us.”

“What is near us? Please, someone tell me what’s going on!”

“They’re headed this way!” A man shouted from the porch, his voice almost drowned out by the alarm still ringing. Gunfire cracked through the cacophony of noise like thunder during a windstorm. The sinister screaming and wicked wailing sent a trickle down Trish’s spine. 

The maiden trembled in her hold. “What is that noise? Trish, please! Tell me what’s happening!”

“Lady, take Kyrie down into the shelter. Keep her there.”

“No! Not without you! You have to come too!”

Trish parted her lips to speak, to demand that Kyrie shut her mouth and do as she’s told if she wanted to live, but her words fell away as glass shattered and the sound of battle penetrated their saloon. 

The demons spilled through the broken window and crashed through the swinging doors. Trish pulled Kyrie into her now, muffling her screaming by burying the maiden’s face in her shoulder. Lady hugged the maiden from behind, sandwiching her in comfort as they watched the battle. 

In such close quarters, the men were reluctant to use their guns against the living puppets; a stray bullet could injure a friend more than help. They fought with swords and knives against the horrible creatures, the clatter of steel blades meeting the sword-like arms and legs of the patchwork puppet monsters. The demons cackled and laughed gleefully, their claws tearing through the flesh of lesser men before better fighters cut them down in return. There was too much happening at once for Trish to count them, but she knew there had to be at least a dozen.

She pushed Kyrie into Lady’s hold, and slid out of the maiden’s arms. Her own power burned in her body, aching for release. Trish felt the air sparking around her hands as she built up her energy, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Lady gave her a look and shook her head. 

“Too many,” Lady whispered. “Too close. You’ll hit the others.”

Reluctantly Trish backed down, letting her power withdraw and fade away. Kyrie cried in Lady’s arms, sobbing quietly with soft whimpers the only sound she made as she watched the men fight. Dante was among them, his massive sword tearing through the demons with the skill of a veteran hunter. 

Between the men of the saloon, the demons didn’t have a chance. The battle was over in a matter of minutes, with the ongoing siren the only sound to pierce the quiet of the night. A dozen demons lay dead on the floor, their flesh boiling in lava-like glowing red blood and melting into ash. Four men, four good men, joined them in death; three other men were wounded. Trish stared at the monsters as they dissolved into nothingness, not even hearing Dante order one of the men to go out and tell Credo that they’d killed the demons, and to turn the alarm off.

Kyrie, however, heard the order.

She suddenly came to life in Lady’s arms. “Credo? Where’s Credo? Is he okay?”

“We don’t know yet, dove,” Trish replied lowly. 

“He’s probably at the edge of town,” Lady whispered, petting Kyrie’s hair to calm her down. “Wondering how and why the wards failed.”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Dante asked as he came up to them at the bar. “Wards fail for only one reason. Someone took them down. Someone wanted the demons in Fortuna.”

“But why?” Kyrie wailed, tears staining her cheeks. “Why would someone let monsters into Fortuna?”

Dante said nothing, his gaze steady on the girl. Trish could see the gears turning in his mind, the man asking himself the same questions and more. 

Over their heads, the wailing of the siren faded away until an eerie quiet settled like a heavy fog in the saloon. Trish sighed softly as her gaze swept over the mess. The battle may have been over, but there was still work to be done.

Her attention turned to Lady, and she rubbed Kyrie’s back gently. “Take her upstairs to her room,” she commanded her partner. “Give her a thimble laudanum to help her sleep.”

Kyrie shook her head, struggling in Lady’s grasp once more. “No. Please, I want to help.”

“I know darling. But…” Trish tucked a lock of hair behind Kyrie’s ear. “Are you  _ capable _ of helping?” She took Kyrie’s hand, letting it sit on the flat of her palm. While Trish’s hand was as steady as a rock, the maiden’s hand trembled violently in her hand. Trish shook her head. “Sweetling, you’d only get in the way.”

“I want to help. P-p-please let me help.”

“She could clean. You know, mop up the spilled drinks and sweep up the glass from the broken window,” Lady suggested. 

Trish growled in her chest, but nodded in defeat. “Alright. The broom and dustpan are in the kitchen.”

Nodding, Lady led Kyrie away. Trish waited, listening with the men. All of them held their breath, waiting. 

The church bell rang thirteen times. 

All clear.

Trish let out her held breath in a heavy sigh, and life resumed at the Desert Rose. She opened the hatch and let out her girls, hidden away in the secret cellar she had built long ago. The bodies of the dead men were picked up and carried out to a cart to be taken to the undertaker. Their names would be read and their families, if they had any, would be honored at Sunday mass. No one touched the puddles of ash and crystallized demon blood; those were left for Trish to trade in for coin to cover the cost of repairs. Tables overturned during the fight were righted, chairs neatly tucked underneath. Drinks were finished, but not refilled. Disrupted card games ended in agreeable draws, and money exchanged and pocketed. Sober and somber, no one wanted to drink or gamble or dance. 

The girls cleaned up the mess in their fine clothes, not taking the time to put on aprons or change into something more durable. They gathered dirty glasses, poured unfinished drinks into buckets to be disposed of out back, and wiped down tables sticky with spilled liquor and blood. Kyrie helped sweep, her eyes wandering to those puddles of ash where demons had been. And the girls upstairs, in their red-curtained rooms, tended to the wounded of body and wounded of spirit. They were paid to bring comfort, even if that comfort came in the form of tender embraces and gentle cradling. 

As owner of the Desert Rose, Trish was the one to sweep up the ashes and dust of the dead demons. Their remains were poured into buckets caked with soot from previous uses. Later, when she or Lady were in the mood, the ash would be sifted through for those precious crimson orbs. The demons would not get a burial. They wouldn’t have their names read or their families honored. A dead demon got nothing, their ashen and dusty remains destined for the trash bin. 

The irony was not lost on Trish.

Her husband’s ashes were among those of countless other demons caked to the inside of her bucket.


	6. Chapter 6

The church bell didn’t ring the hour during the night, but Trish kept a small clock under the bar. By the time it chimed two in the morning, the saloon had been restored to its original, tidy condition, and the patrons had all gone home, save one. Dante lingered by the swinging saloon doors, ready to walk any of the girls who didn’t live at the Desert Rose home. It was his normal practice, even if there hadn’t been a demon attack hours before. He would be back in time for free lunch. 

Trish did one last walk around her saloon. She closed the little fall and the cover of the piano, she put away the billiards balls and lined the cues up on the rack. She put away the darts and closed the dart board, and she carried the decks of cards with her to the liquor cabinet. She closed the sliding doors under the bar and locked them; she closed the liquor cabinet and locked it with the same key. That key also unlocked the cash register, and she tucked it into her corset after popping out the cash drawer to carry up to her office and the safe.

Her girls waited in a line outside Lady’s door for their nightly wage. The blonde passed her girls as she carried up the till and the evening’s earnings from the bar. The pearls were the first in line. Their earnings from their specific business were in jewelry boxes, compartment books, and handbags held tight to their bosoms. Next were the saloon girls; the dancing girls, the serving girls, the gambling girls all in their colorful costumes with their matching purses dangling from their wrists. Then there were the kitchen girls, who made no money at all from the floor and relied on the others to bring in enough to cover their hourly wages. 

Each penny brought in by her girls was counted and recorded in the books, on the off-chance any of the girls developed sticky fingers. It had happened only once, and Trish didn’t hesitate to make an example of the perpetrator. Trish remembered her face and her name to this day, though it had been years since the thief fled Fortuna. One at a time, the girls came into Lady and Trish’s room, which also served as their office. Their earnings were counted and recorded. The house cut was counted and recorded. And the remainder, as well as her hourly wage, left with the girl. They kept their tips in full. 

Kyrie was the last in line to be paid, and whether the other girls had shunted her to the back or if she had gone there willingly, Trish didn’t know. All she knew was that by the way Kyrie shifted and bit her bottom lip as Lady counted her dollars and coins, the maiden had something she wanted to say.

Lady laid out Kyrie’s pay as she counted out loud. “Twenty, forty…” She placed two bills on the desk in front of Kyrie. “Forty dollars for your hourly. Plus...five, six, seven, eight...twenty-five…” Four more bills, and a coin. “Eight dollars and twenty-five cents in tips." She smirked up at Kyrie. “Not half bad, for a first night. Keep it up, and you’ll be paying us soon.”

The maiden chuffed, smiling weakly for the first time since the attack. Her nose was still pink, and her cheeks were still swollen from the crying she had done. She folded the bills into a tight wad, and tucked her pay into her little handbag. But even after she’d been paid, Kyrie remained rooted in place, fidgeting her fingers and shifting her weight. Lady and Trish exchanged glances, not sure what to do. Was this a British thing? Should they say something, or was Kyrie working out how to voice what she needed in the most polite way possible?

Trish got up from her chair behind the desk and came around to stand beside the maiden. She reached to Kyrie’s shoulder, resting her hand on her bare skin. “Is something the matter, sweetie?”

“If you need a walk home, Dante probably hasn’t left yet.”

“It’s…” Kyrie stuttered. “It’s not that. Well...It’s  _ sort _ of that. I…” She sighed, her shoulders slumping under the weight of what she wanted. “Would it be possible if I were to stay here? I know I was rather assumptive yesterday when brother was here, and you were very kind to have not stopped me. But I  _ did _ take a room without permission and without paying. I am willing to pay for yesterday’s lodging as well as today’s to make up for it, if you would permit me to continue to stay. If my choice of room is also an issue, I -”

Lady held up a hand to stop her, shaking her head with a smile. “Hun, it’s alright,” she said with a smile. “If it were a problem, we would have told you yesterday. But...What about Credo? Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable going home to your brother?”

Kyrie shook her head, and Trish felt her quiver under her hand. Without thinking, her thumb stroked the soft skin of Kyrie’s shoulder. In turn, the maiden lifted a hand to rest on Trish’s, hugging herself. “Brother is right,” Kyrie admitted. “Fortuna isn’t safe for a maiden like me. But I can’t help but wonder how much safer I would be with him. As far as I know, he doesn’t have a home beyond his office at the jail. And I have no doubt that he was involved in his own battle against more of those monsters. With how dangerous brother’s work is, I feel that I wouldn’t be safer at the jail as opposed to anywhere else. Here, I feel…” A small, shy smile bloomed on her face, but she shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. “Despite what happened this evening, I’d much rather be here.”

“Then you’re welcome to stay,” Trish answered before her partner could.

“Our usual fee for a room is two dollars a night,” Lady continued, resting her chin on her hands. “But since you’re an employee, we’ll give you a discount. How does fifty-cents a night sound?”

Trish felt the maiden’s sigh of relief, giving the girl’s shoulder a pat before pulling her hand away. Kyrie dug out one of the bills she’d been given, setting it down to slide to Lady. “Yesterday and today.”

Lady nodded in satisfaction and wrote a note in her account book before taking the bill. Trish walked past the maiden to a small jewelry box on the vanity, opening it to withdraw a key with a number on it. This was tossed to Kyrie, who caught it in mid-air. “You’re all set, darlin’,” Lady said with a smile as she stood, closing the account book after the ink had dried. “We’re pretty slow early in the morning, so if there’s anything you need, feel free to let us know. You get free dinner before work, and another meal in the middle of your shift.” She squinted at Kyrie. “You didn’t get your break, did you sweetie? Are you hungry? Do you need me to make something for you?”

Once again, the maiden smiled and shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I think what I want most right now is a chance to wash and sleep.”

“The day is yours to do with as you wish,” Trish permitted her. “We start getting ready for the main crowd around four. Dinner is at four-thirty, and five is when your shift starts. Anything else you need, dear?”

Kyrie fidgeted with the string of her purse on her wrist. “Something...for the nightmares...please.”

Trish smiled and gave Kyrie’s hair a gentle pet. “Head on to your room, sweetling. I’ll bring something up shortly.”

The maiden nodded, giving both of them a curtsey, and quietly led the way out of the room. She parted paths from Trish outside the door, heading for her room as Trish descended the stairs. Seeing Dante waiting at the door, Trish gave him only a silent nod to signal it was safe for him to take the other girls home. 

As she worked in the kitchen, boiling water and pulverizing herbs in a mortar and pestle, she heard the jingle of spurs coming up to her kitchen door. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was; his energy and power shivered against her own.

“Where’s Kyrie?”

“She’s up in her room. Come in. Have a seat.”

Credo nodded, sitting in a chair at a small table in the kitchen. He took his hat off and rested it on the table. Trish saw the splatters of red on his white coat and clothes, caked on with mud and dust. The sheriff had seen his own battle last night. 

“How many made it into the city?” Trish asked him, pouring the herbs into the boiling kettle.

“Too many,” he replied lowly, his hands lacing together in front of his face. He shook his head. “I won’t know the extent of what happened until morning. Until then, I have deputies, marshals, and volunteers posted at every place the barrier fell.”

“ _ Every _ place?”

“The wards collapsed at three points around the barrier.”

Trish shivered. “It’s not unheard of for demons to be coordinated, but even then, that seems so…”

“Intentional.” Credo sighed heavily. “I don’t know what it was, but I suspect that the attack last night was for a purpose.”

She said nothing as she poured the herbal tea into a cup, stirring in a bit of sugar to sweeten it. “Does it bother you, that Kyrie will be spending the night here?”

The sheriff closed his eyes and shook his head. “As much as I am reluctant to say it, she is safe here.”

“Credo, those demons attacked the saloon.”

“And Dante told me as I was coming in that you protected Kyrie, just as you protect all of your girls.” He stood with slow effort, the popping of his stiff joints making Trish’s own body ache more. “When I learn more, you and Dante will be the first to know. Until then…” Credo donned his hat once more. The lines in his face looked all the more deeper, aging him. “Please continue to keep my sister safe.”

Trish smiled. “Of course.”

She waited until he left before taking the tea up to Kyrie’s room, knocking and waiting until she had the maiden’s permit before entering. The younger woman had changed out of her dancing dress and into her nightgown and robe, standing at her vanity with a large bowl of warm water, a bar of soap, and a clean towel.  _ Lady must have brought her those things.  _ Her long auburn hair was out of its bun and hung in a low, loose braid that ran down her back to brush that gentle curve at the base of her spine. Her skin, where Trish could see it under the nightgown and robe, was a rosy pink from being freshly towel-bathed. 

As Kyrie dried her face with the towel, Trish set the cup of tea on the nightstand beside her bed. “Here you go, darling. It should help you sleep, and it should keep your dreams sweet.”

“Thank you.” Kyrie set the towel aside, sheepishly approaching Trish and the cup of tea. 

Trish tilted her head at the maiden. “Is there anything else you need, darling?”

Kyrie’s eyes fell to the floor, her lips pressed in a thin line as she chewed on her words. Her fingers fidgeted, and she shifted on her feet once more. Suddenly she shook her head and hid her face in her hands, blushing. 

“N-n-no, thank you.”

“Alright dear.” She ran her hand over Kyrie’s head, petting her soft hair. Trish tilted the girl’s head closer and kissed the top of her head. “If you need anything, Lady and I are down the hall. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

The maiden nodded, and Trish smiled to herself as she left. She was still smiling as she returned to her room with Lady and closed the door behind her, leaning on it. In the time she had been gone, Lady had removed the doilies and candle sticks from the bottom of their tin tub and flipped it right side up. Warm water sent slivers of steam into the air, and another couple of buckets of water sat waiting for them to rinse off with. The account book was shelved away until tomorrow.

Seeing Trish, Lady smiled. “Our poor girl is a mess,” Lady commented as she began to undress.

“Oh, without a doubt,” Trish agreed, putting the liquor cabinet key in their jewelry box with the other keys. She chuckled lowly. “I think it only adds to her charm more.”

Lady giggled to herself as Trish came up behind her and untied her corset. The blonde turned around so Lady could do the same for her. She couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of being freed from the constrictive clothing. Trish held up her arms to let her partner pull her corset up over her head. When her arms came down again, she found Lady had wrapped her own around Trish’s waist.

Her voice was small and childish in Trish’s ear. “Do you think she’ll be okay? Maybe one of us should go sleep with her…”

Trish chuckled lowly. “Somehow I doubt having someone between her thighs is what she wants right now.”

“No, wait! That’s not what I meant!”

The blonde laughed now, turning in Lady’s arms to face her. “I know, my love. I was only teasing.” She cupped Lady’s cheeks in her hands and pulled her close to lightly kiss her lips. “I made her some tea to help her sleep. She should be fine for tonight, and if not, she knows she can come to us.”

Lady nodded and said nothing more. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to Trish’s in a soft, slow, tantalizing kiss. She could taste the make-up on Lady’s lips, applied over and over again throughout the night, and she could taste other men on her tongue. Men she had kissed, men she had teased with her mouth, men she had  _ devoured _ through the evening. It made Trish’s heart ache with jealousy, but she knew that Lady would taste similar things on her own lips and tongue. 

One day, they would be free.

Free from Fortuna.

Free from demons.

Free from their bloody past.

She felt Lady’s hands move hers away, relocating Trish’s hands to her partner’s waist. Calloused fingers stroked the skin of her cheeks. “Trish, you’re crying,” Lady whispered against Trish’s lips.

The blonde gathered Lady’s hands in her own, pulling her fingers from her face to kiss her fingertips and palms. “I was thinking too much. That’s all.”

Lady nodded a little, not wanting to argue or press the subject further. Her hands slipped from Trish’s and undressed the blonde completely. Trish shivered at the cold of the morning air against her bare skin, holding still as Lady kissed her and undressed her. When Trish’s gowns and layers were nothing but a puddle on the floor, Lady held still so that Trish could return the favor. She kissed her lover on her lips, on her shoulders, wherever Trish’s lips could reach as she peeled the cloth from Lady’s skin like the petals from a flower. 

As she stood up straight once more, Lady caught her and pulled her into another kiss. She pushed back Trish’s long hair from her face and shoulders, giving her partner a soft smile. “Go ahead and get in while the water’s still warm,” Lady told her. 

“And here I was hoping that you’d scrub my back.”

“After you scrub mine. And when we’re done, I can give you a nice massage.”

Trish hummed at the thought. “I like the sound of that.” 

Lady softly and turned her by her shoulders. “Well, then get in!” 

“I am, I am! You don’t have to get pushy.” 

As Lady picked up and hung their discarded clothes, Trish got into the tub. It was a small thing, just barely big enough for the two of them, and only halfway filled with water. Still, she leaned against the wall of it and sank into the warm water, lifting her legs to rest them against the lip of the tub. She crossed her legs as she watched Lady work. 

“ _ Shit! _ ” Lady suddenly exclaimed.

“Hm?”

“Oh, I forgot the lavender. I was in such a hurry…”

“You don’t have to, my love.”

“No, I do. We both need it.”

Trish rolled her eyes. She knew better than to argue. Lady covered herself with a robe, tying it closed at her waist. Despite the threat of glass shards that could have been missed in all the sweeping and mopping after the battle, Lady still walked around barefoot. She leaned over Trish to give her a kiss on the forehead. 

“I’ll be right back. Behave while I’m gone.”

“Don’t I always?”

“No, you don’t.”

The blonde chuckled, watching her lover go. Trish closed her eyes, letting her body relax and her mind wander. Her thoughts went to Kyrie.  _ The poor girl… _ She’d never seen a demon before, and on her first day in a new city, monsters attacked her new home and place of employment.  _ What rotten luck! Or is it... _ Both Dante and Credo had implied that tonight’s attack was more than a coincidence. It had been coordinated. The barrier around Fortuna had failed in three places.  _ Three! _ During any other attack in the past, it was only just a handful of demons. But this one time, there had been a dozen at the Desert Rose alone!  _ How many demons were there? _

Too many, Credo had said. 

There was a board that always creaked outside the door, and Trish heard it whine under Lady’s weight as her partner came back to their room. Her eyes fluttered open as Lady came in, a few sprigs of dried and fresh lavender from their garden in her hands. The brunette kicked the door closed behind her and sat on the floor beside the tub. Humming a little song, she plucked the miniature purple flowers from their stalks, rubbing them between her fingers before dropping them into the warm bath water.

“You don’t have to spoil me like this,” Trish sighed with a small smile.

“I like spoiling you though,” Lady replied with a shrug. The shoulder of her robe slipped from her skin, exposing her neck and bosom to Trish’s eyes. She smirked as she caught Trish staring. “Think of it as my way of paying you back for everything you’ve done for me. And besides, you love it when I spoil you.”

“Do I?”

“Yes,” Lady moaned the word before closing the distance to kiss her lover once more. 

Her lips met Trish’s in another kiss. It was soft and sweet at first, but like many others that they shared, it quickly into a kiss of desire and need. Trish wrapped wet arms around Lady’s shoulders, pulling her closer. She whimpered as Lady pulled away and peeled Trish’s arms from her body, but any protest she might have said vanished from her lips as she watched Lady undress again. The way her robe slipped away from her body...It was like seeing her for the first time all over again. Lady was lithe and beautiful, her body scarred from her own battles with her own demons and her own bloody past. Her muscles were toned from dedicated training, and while Trish had never seen Lady fight with a sword, she knew her brunette companion was never far from a knife or a gun. 

Very few men that came to the Desert Rose knew how to pleasure a woman; often they only cared about pleasuring themselves with feminine bodies. But Lady...Lady  _ knew _ how to bring Trish pleasure, not only in her body, but down to her heart and soul. Lady  _ knew _ how to care for Trish; how to heal her wounds, how to bring light in her darkest times, and how to feed hungers that would have otherwise been neglected. And right now, Trish  _ needed _ her partner’s delicate touch, her hands on her body, her soft voice whispering love in her ear. As Lady got into the tub with her and scooted close between Trish’s legs, Trish thought she heard the floorboard creak outside their door. But then Lady’s hands fell onto her body, lathering her with soap and massaging her weary body with knowledgeable hands.

Trish’s head fell back over the lip of the tub with a moan. Lady chortled and hummed as she worked, rubbing and squeezing the muscles of Trish’s arms and legs. She kissed Trish’s forehead and told her to turn around. The blonde could only obey, tucking her legs in under her as she turned her back in the tiny tub. She crossed her arms on the lip of the tub and rested her head there. The woman melted as Lady worked down the length of her back, the soapy water making it easy for her hands to slide along the flat planes of pale skin. 

She shivered as Lady kissed the back of her neck, the brunette’s hands stroking further down to Trish’s knees. Gently she pulled Trish’s legs apart. The blonde had to bite her bottom lip to keep from moaning too loud as knowing fingers slid between her legs to rub her clit and folds. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Lady purred in her ear.

“No,  _ please _ ,” Trish whimpered. “Go on. I need this. I need  _ you. _ ”

Lady chuckled lowly. “Are you sure it’s just me you need? I saw the way you looked at her while she was dancing. I saw the way you held her during the attack. You said so yourself that you wanted to play with her. Maybe you should pay her a visit after I’ve finished warming you up.”

“N-no...She’s not like us. She’s so pure. She deserves better.”

“Is that really what you think? I can’t tell with this bath, but I imagine your body would be more honest if I asked. Would you be wet, Trishie, if I slid a finger inside you? Would it go in easily, because you’re wet thinking about her? Tell me the truth. Tell me the truth and I’ll let you cum.”

She was close. Trish could feel that bubble of pleasure already forming, already growing with each stroke against her sensitive womanhood. It didn’t help that Lady was speaking so seductively to her, forcing her to confront her fantasies and desires. 

“I want her,” Trish finally confessed with a moan. “I want Kyrie. I want to hold her in my arms the way you hold me. I want to feel the softness of her skin in my hands. I want to toy with her body and play with her flesh. I want to see her blush and squirm as we make love to her all through the night. I want to hear her moan and scream our names.”

“Good girl. Would you like your reward?”

“Yes, please.”

To Trish’s disappointment, Lady pulled her fingers away. However, her disappointment was short lived as Lady’s gentle hands turned her around once more to face her. Her body was as limp as a doll’s as her lover opened her legs and draped them over the sides of the tub. Lady knelt close enough to her that their bodies pressed against one another. Her lover was soft and warm against her, and her lips were sweet as they kissed again. Trish pulled her lips away to lean her head back with a delighted sigh as she felt Lady’s fingers rubbing against her folds once more. Lady kissed and nibbled along her neck as one finger slid into Trish’s heat with ease. After several moments, it was joined by another. 

Her voice rose higher and higher with every breath as Lady’s fingers curled against her, rubbing that spot inside her that set her body on fire. As Lady’s fingers stroked her inside, her thumb drew circles against Trish’s clit. Her free hand grasped Trish’s breast and kneaded her. With so much stimulation, Trish couldn’t hold on for long. 

Trish’s orgasm came as a crashing wave that emptied her mind of any thought save for pleasure. Her breath froze in her lungs, and she felt her muscles tighten as her whole body clenched around the source of her ecstasy. Slowly she relaxed as she came down from that high, and Lady pulled her fingers out. Her lips left tender kisses along Trish’s neck, up to her lips. 

“I love you,” Lady whispered.

“I know, my darling. And I love you as well.”

Lady smiled and kissed her forehead. “Let me get a towel for you.”

Trish could only shakily nod. 

As Lady got out of the tub and grabbed a towel to dry off, the floorboard outside their door creaked. Lady’s head snapped in the direction of their door. “What was that?” She hissed lowly.

The blonde floppily shrugged. “Probably just the building settling.”

“Maybe…” Lady hemmed, shaking her head.

Still, even Trish couldn’t shake the feeling that she thought she’d heard that sound earlier.


	7. Chapter 7

Trish was awake before the three o’clock bell. She counted its chimes, listening to the last one fade away as Lady slept peacefully beside her. Her arm was draped across Trish’s chest and her head nestled on the blonde’s shoulder. The human slept heavily enough that Trish was able to easily wiggle free from underneath her and out of bed. She pulled on a shirt, buttoning it before pulling on a pair of trousers to tuck her blouse into. The blonde was dressed and out of the room before Lady even stirred.

As she descended the stairs, she saw Dante at his table, in his chair, already leaned back and napping with his hat over his face hardly muffling his snore. Lucia wiped down the bar as a couple of the kitchen girls cleaned dishes off tables from the free lunch that brought in early patrons. Trish stopped short as her eyes fell on the man in white coats, sitting at her bar with his hat beside him. A stone formed and sank in her stomach. What could Credo want so early in the evening? 

“What can I get for you, sir?” Trish asked as she came down and around, standing across from him with the bar between them. “Charlotte’s on her break since free lunch is over, but I can rustle up something for you. I should warn you that I never learned how to cook for myself.”

The sheriff shook his head, his hands clasped and hiding his mouth. He had heavy bags under his eyes, and he stank of coffee, cigarettes, and body odor; he wore the same blood-stained, dirt-caked clothes of the night before. Trish wondered how long it had been since the man slept.

Credo sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging from the weight of the world. His hands lowered from his face as he looked up at her. 

“The protective wards were deliberately destroyed,” he told her lowly. “Not just moved aside or disenchanted, but completely dismantled and burned. And since the barrier was down in three places, there were three coordinated attacks. Two of the attacks happened on opposite ends of Fortuna, comprised of two small legions of demons. Five, six each.”

“Distractions, so that the defense would be weaker where they wanted to go. The third attack…”

“The third attack happened here. A dozen demons, converging on the Desert Rose.”

The stone in her stomach sank even further, weighing down her heart and her conscience. “They were after something in particular then.”

“Not something, Trish. Some _ one _ .” His dark chocolate eyes glared deep into her heart and soul, seeing her not as a woman of beauty, but as who she truly was. A monster, like him. “Someone who rather publically arrived only yesterday. Someone who was seen walking through the streets of Fortuna. Someone who came to the Desert Rose and hasn’t left the building since her arrival.”

“Kyrie.” 

He nodded.

“But why? Why would demons be after her?”

“You already know the reasons, Trish. Must I say them out loud?” He opened his fist one finger at a time. “She’s a virgin. She has a subtle, magic power. She’s my sister.” Credo shook his head. “I have made many enemies since my arrival in Fortuna. Any number of them could have learned of Kyrie. Any number of them could have lured her here with that telegram only to capture her and use her for ransom. Or worse.”

Trish’s skin prickled. “Power? You mean…”

“She’s not a demon, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Credo sighed. “When she was a young girl, she did a good deed for a passing sorceress. The witch blessed her with a gift, that when she speaks, she has the ability to influence others.” He shook his head and made a dismissive gesture. “Subtle suggestions, soothing tone, charming songs... She never learned to hone her ability, so it is as wild and unpredictable as she is at times.”

The blonde chuckled lowly, nodding. “I’ve felt it myself. If she had a patient teacher, one willing to work with her unique magic and not shun her for it…”

His own soft smile faded. “Trish, I feel as if I’ve asked too much of you already by protecting her. You have your own life to live, your own partner to tend to, and a business to run. I can’t ask you to teach her and protect her as well. It’s too much, even for you.”

“Lucky for you, you’re not asking me. I’m volunteering. And besides, if she’s going to stay here, she needs to learn how to protect herself to the fullest of her ability. Because, I take it, sending her back to England is now out of the question.”

Again, he nodded in agreement to her assessment. “She is known now. If I tried to send her back to England, she could be followed and captured with greater ease. As loathe as I am to admit it, she is safest here. In Fortuna and at the Desert Rose.”

“Surrounded by armed men who have grown to love her.”

Credo groaned at the thought, burying his face in his hands. Trish laughed to herself as he rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbled. His hands lowered from his face. “And don’t let her marry the first gambler who declares his love for her. I’m not... I’m not ready to see my baby sister married off. I dread to think about what a man might do to her once he sees how stubborn and headstrong she could be. The wrong sort will want to beat it out of her, to break her of being so willful, and I won’t be able to protect her once she’s made her vows.”

She laughed lowly once more. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about there. She doesn’t seem like the breed of girl easily persuaded into marriage by the wrong sort of suitor. As valid as your concerns are, I feel as if you’re worrying for nothing.” Trish sighed, leaning against the liquor cabinet. “Do you have any leads? On who took down the wards? On who may have sent the telegram?”

The sheriff glanced over his shoulder at Dante, who yawned and stretched before resuming his nap. When his attention returned to Trish, Credo’s voice lowered to a whisper meant only for her. “Several of  _ his _ men were seen riding into town last night during the chaos of the attack. And one of my deputies has informed me that one of his lieutenants was lurking around the train station yesterday when Kyrie arrived.”

Trish shivered at the thought of the blue-cloaked bandit prince and the Hell he’d brought to Fortuna in the past. “What can be done?”

“There aren’t any warrants out for their arrests that I know of, but that doesn’t mean he or his men aren’t dangerous or up to something. Without a bounty or a warrant, my hands are tied.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her. I promise.”

His eyes fell to the bar countertop as he breathed a sigh of relief so heavy, he seemed to collapse without that breath to hold him rigid. “Thank you. I can’t protect her if I’m the one with the target painted on my back, and I can’t expect her to be satisfied with living in a jail cell until all this nonsense passes. And…” Credo’s gaze lifted to meet her’s. “I trust you. Despite all that has happened between us, I can trust that you’ll stand by your word. And that despite your black blood, you care enough to protect her.”

“I don’t have to be human to care about others, Credo.”

He stood and put on his hat, turning his back. She watched him walk away, stopping only when she continued speaking. 

“You of all people should know that.”

The sheriff didn’t glance back at her. “Good day, Trish.”


	8. Chapter 8

Kyrie came out of her room at four o’clock, dressed in her chocolate and cream “work” dress. Her hair was pinned up as it was the night before, and she smiled and laughed with the same shining brightness she’d had when she first arrived. Neither she nor any of the other girls were the wiser to Credo’s visit as they enjoyed a light meal together before work; Kyrie didn’t seem scarred by last night’s attack or worried that it would happen again. Trish couldn’t help but smile to herself as she watched Kyrie, sitting with Dante and three other girls, converse about fashion trends and dresses and whether if ribbons were still in style or out.  _ To Kyrie, last night was just another nightmare, _ Trish thought as she leaned on the bar counter, taking a break from polishing the resin glaze.  _ How many nightmares did she have when she was living alone while Credo was at war? Dreams of receiving that dreaded letter, dreams of seeing his body carted up to her door, dreams of distant battlefields…  _ She shook her head. Maybe now that the girl had seen a demon for herself, she’d be ready for the next time one showed its ugly face to her.

Maybe now that Kyrie had met a demon, Trish could tell her the truth about herself.

Maybe now Credo could tell his sister the secret he’d been holding back.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of boots and spurs coming into the saloon. The dozens of girls took their plates to the kitchen to wash, the piano man took his seat and began to play, and the endless fountain of drinks began to flow into the infinite numbers of glasses and mugs. By six o’clock, the saloon was filled with people, noise, conversation, music, dancing, and laughter, and any further hesitation Trish might have had about Kyrie’s presence faded away as she watched the maiden work.

For being so modest and sweet, Kyrie was quite the social butterfly. She was polite to every patron they had, sharing her time with any who requested it. She never forgot a man who asked for a dance and had to wait his turn, and if a story or joke or conversation was interrupted, she always asked to hear the ending. As she had the night before, Kyrie alternated between dancing and serving drinks; she would dance for a set of songs, take a few minutes to catch her breath at the bar, and then serve drinks before returning to the bar for another moment’s rest. Dante was her partner in both dance and conversation more than once. 

“I can’t decide if you’re constipated or pissed,” Lady said as she came up to Trish’s elbow.

The blonde caught herself frowning and changed her expression to something more neutral. She tried to distract herself with pouring drinks, but still her gaze wandered back to Dante and Kyrie dancing at the other end of the saloon. Trish sighed.

“I mean, I’m happy that she’s happy,” Trish tried to defend herself. “And it’s her job to dance with lonely men. So there’s absolutely no reason I should be feeling all…” She struggled to find the words to describe the mess in her heart and her stomach.

“All tied up inside?” 

“Yes! That’s it! That’s exactly it!”

Lady shrugged. “They’re a cute match. She brings out the gentle nature in him, and he lets her be wild and free. I can see it lasting.”

“ _ Ugh _ . He’s old enough to be her father.”

Her partner laughed, patting Trish’s back. “You  _ do _ realize that means  _ you’re _ old enough to be her grandmother, right?”

Trish groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Lady chuckled lowly, her hand behind Trish sliding down her back. The blonde gasped softly and stood still as that hand came back up again under her skirts. She blushed as Lady gave her a firm squeeze.

The brunette leaned close enough to whisper in Trish’s ear. “You don’t hear me complaining though.  _ Grandma. _ ”

Trish flicked her nose. “Call me that again in bed, and I’ll have you so sore that you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

“Is that a promise?”

She chuckled lowly and kissed Lady’s lips, uncaring of who saw them or who judged. And who knows? A man might be willing to pay to watch two women, and more to join them. 

However, Lady pulled her hand away and gave her lover a wink. She parted from Trish’s side to return to her duties, leaving Trish to her own work.

As the evening progressed, the saloon filled and emptied, filled and emptied, and filled again. Trish was so busy that any thoughts or reservations she may have about Dante and Kyrie dancing together too much were out of her mind. She hardly noticed that they had stopped dancing, the pair coming to the bar together. It didn’t even register in her mind that Kyrie took a tray of drinks away to serve while her dance partner sat grinning at the bar as he rested from their last romp at the dance floor. She didn’t have time to think about them, or much else really than keeping drinks filled and flowing from the bar, that she wasn’t watching the door. Otherwise, she would have seen the man with the scarred face when he came in. She would have watched him and his men like a hawk as they went to a table and took their seats. She would have served them drinks herself. But instead, as occupied as she was, they were only a blur in the corner of her eye, just another handful of hats coming and going for their drink. Trish thought nothing of them until she heard the crashing of glass and Kyrie scream.

It was a scream loud enough to bring all music and dancing and conversation to a grinding halt. Heads and eyes turned to the table of five men in black coats and hats, where the bald one with the scarred face struggled with Kyrie in his lap. She flailed and screeched in his grasp, fighting to free herself as he held her body and tried to kiss her. Her tray was on the floor at her feet, the dozens of shot glasses and mugs broken and spilled.

Trish was in such haste that she climbed over the top of the bar rather than go around, shoving aside patrons and knocking over a few glasses herself as she raced to the source of the commotion. Dante was at her side, less gentle about making a path for them. He gripped the sword on his back with a white-knuckled hand over his shoulder, and Trish drew her own miniature pistol from her garter belt as they reached the table. 

Bile gurgled in the back of Trish’s throat at the sight of them. The man’s hands were on Kyrie’s breast and groin, groping her through her clothing as she struggled. Up close, Trish recognized the man. Dante nudged her arm with his elbow, and then Trish saw it. A white handkerchief in his hand, stinking of chemicals. She almost missed it in her rage. It took everything in her to not shoot him on sight.

“Let her go, Arkham,” Trish demanded in a dangerous snarl, her pistol pointed between his eyes. 

Arkham, the bald man with the scarred face, furrowed his brows at Trish in a mean sneer. “She’s a whore! I gave her her twenty-dollars. I can do with her what I please!”

“Look again. Only the girls wearing pearls are ladies of the night. The young woman you’re assaulting is of notable reputation, a fine dancer, and a damn good barmaid. And you  _ will _ let her go, or I’ll be sending you back to Hell with a third eye.”

“ _ Tch. _ ” 

Slowly the man stood and set Kyrie on her feet in the middle of the mess of her tray, broken glass, and coagulating liquor. Lady, standing at the edge of the onlookers, opened her arms to the girl, and Kyrie ran into her embrace. Saying nothing, Lady led her safely through the throng and away. 

Arkham watched them go, snapping his glare back to Trish once he’d lost sight of them. He sneered as he snatched up his twenty-dollar bill, left laying on the table, and shoved it in his pocket. 

“She wasn’t worth the money anyway,” he hissed to Trish. The man grinned wickedly. “Her breasts are too small.”

“That’s a matter of opinion, madman,” Dante hissed. “What’s the matter, Arkham? Vergil’s ass getting too sour for your taste, so you had to harass a woman for once in your life? It’s a damn good thing Credo doesn’t have a bounty out on you, or your ugly mug would be behind bars right about now.”

“A man can’t be arrested for a girl sitting in his lap,” the scoundrel argued.

“No, he can’t.” Trish reluctantly put away her pistol, but she saw that Dante didn’t relax his grip on his sword. She smirked to herself. “But he  _ can _ be thrown out of my establishment. Dante, get him out of here. And if Credo happens to be walking by, well… I won’t be the one to stop you from reporting the incident. The sheriff might be in a bad enough mood to arrest him for such a  _ minor _ infraction.”

“With pleasure.”

Arkham didn’t put up a fight as Dante grabbed him by an arm and dragged him away from his table. The bald, scarred man gave Trish a parting glare that could have killed a lesser woman. But for her, that dark look on fueled her further. Dante wasn’t gentle as he led Arkham through the saloon; either he was intentionally jostling the scoundrel against every table and chair in their path or Dante didn’t care. Regardless, Arkham’s minions followed behind them. At the edge of the porch, Dante shoved Arkham into the street so hard that the bandit stumbled. He caught his balance and his footing only moments before falling into a dirty horse trough. Both Dante and Trish waited in front of the door until Arkham and his men walked away, disappearing around a corner into an alley behind the Desert Rose. The blonde sighed to herself, letting her friend lead her back inside.

With the riff-raff taken care of, the piano man resumed his song and voices lifted in conversation once more. The men were corralled back to their hands of cards, back to their tables of beer, back to the dance floor. Trish grabbed a broom and dustpan, meeting Lady at the mess on the floor. Her partner gingerly picked up the larger pieces and undamaged glasses, setting them on the tray, but she was shooed away as Trish began to sweep the mess up. 

“Where’s Kyrie?” Trish asked her partner lowly.

“I gave her a glass of warm milk and told her to take a breather in the kitchen.”

“How is she?”

“A little shaken that she was molested by a stranger and almost chloroformed, but I think she’ll be okay.”

“Chloroform?”

Lady nodded. “Yeah. She said he tried to put a rag that smelled like chloroform to her face. That’s when she screamed. When everyone saw what was going on, that’s when he started feeling her up.” She chuckled lowly. “She said the smell of his breath almost made her faint more than the rag did.”

“He didn’t…”

“Nah, he didn’t kiss her. Not for a lack of trying, though. She was able to keep him back.”

“Good. Lady, are… are we…?” Trish didn’t quite know how to word her thoughts. Between coming down from the rush of adrenaline and worry, her mind was a jumble of emotions that made thinking difficult.

“Are we bad people for making her work at a place where she could be easily grabbed again?”

Trish nodded quietly.

Her partner chuffed. “If anything, Kyrie’s still safest here.” She hugged herself as she watched Trish work. “The guys like her, Trishie. There wasn’t one among them who would have let Arkham take her or hurt her. You didn’t see what I did, that every man had a hand near his gun or his knife, ready to take Arkham on if you or Dante failed to. And Kyrie made a point too. She showed them that she’s not afraid to cause a scene, to bring any ill-deeds out into the open for others to see and judge. Arkham got off lucky. Next time anyone grabs her, Arkham or anyone else, they’ll be breathing out of their mouth for the rest of their life. Assuming they survive the lynch mob.”

The blonde chuckled to herself at the thought, standing up straight. She handed Lady both the broom and the heavy dustpan. “If you don’t mind, could you grab the mop for me?” 

“Kitchen, right?”

“That’s where I remember putting it last. And could you ask Lucia to cover the bar while I finish cleaning up this mess?”

“Sure. Be back in a jiffy, love.”

Lady hummed a jaunty tune as she carried the broom and dustpan to the kitchen. Both would need a good soaking to clean them of the glass and sticky residue from the liquor, but she could do that in the morning. In her mind, Lady made a shopping list of things that needed to be done; an inventory of how many glasses were lost, how many ounces of liquor, order replacement mugs and glasses from the glassblower ( _ When is the new window arriving anyway? _ ), who should be charged for the damages the next time they came in - Arkham or his boss, Vergil, should any of it be counted against Kyrie’s paycheck… She dismissed  _ that _ thought almost as soon as it crossed her mind. While the blame, in the end, could fall on her, it wasn’t Kyrie’s fault that Arkham was so vile that he’d try to kidnap a girl and cause such a scene. Any of the other girls would have done the same, including Lady herself. 

The kitchen was a cacophony of noise as Lady booty-bumped the swinging doors open and admitted herself in. The dish maids were hard at work, scrubbing and drying glass after glass, plate after plate, pan after pan. The cooks kept busy as well, making their own music with metal spoons against iron skillets and the chop of heavy knives on even heavier wooden blocks. Kyrie sat away from it all, banished to a little corner table to observe with a teacup cradled in her hands. Lady had given it to her filled with warm milk; Lucia must have been the one to add a sprinkling of chocolate to the girl’s drink.

Seeing Lady made Kyrie smile and blush shyly, turning her eyes away as Lady dumped the broken glass into a barrel of other glass waste to be sent away. Broom and dustpan went next to the garbage barrels, and Lady wedged herself in with the dish girls to wash and dry her hands. She booty-bumped Lucia on her way past the red-head.

“Trish wants you at the bar, darlin’,” she told the other woman.

“ _ Tramposa rubia _ … When does she not?” Lucia asked with a smirk in return. She wiped her hands clean of the food she’d been cooking, and barked an order to another girl in swift, singing Spanish as she took off her apron and hung it on a hook.

Lady smiled to herself, watching Lucia leave with a trail of muttered curses, as she stood beside Kyrie. Her arms looped around the maiden’s shoulders in a gentle hug. She felt the maiden relax in her hold, Kyrie closing her eyes as she leaned into Lady’s embrace.

“How you feelin’, baby doll?” Lady asked, giving Kyrie a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“Better, now that I’ve stopped shaking,” replied the maiden. She smiled as Lady rubbed her back, just under her hairline and above the hem of her corset. “I suppose it’s another thing about the west I need to get used to. I didn’t have this problem in St Louis, but the men here are much different than in the city.”

The brunette’s smile fell a bit. Trish had told her earlier about Credo’s visit, and the implications he’d made. But Kyrie, however, was innocent to it all. But why? Why keep the girl in the dark about the threats around her and against her?  _ Something I’ll have to talk to Trishie about later. _

Kyrie kept speaking softly, her eyes on her lukewarm cocoa. “Although, I suppose I’m a hardened American girl now. I’ve seen my first battle. I’ve endured my first assault. And I feel so empty of it all now. It’s strange. I don’t even feel like I need to cry. All I want to do is get back to work.” Her eyes lifted to Lady. “Does this make me a wicked woman? To be so unphased by a man’s unwanted touch that I’m eager to return to dancing and serving drinks?”

Lady’s lips parted, but her comment about English girls being tougher than any American girl fluttered away as she was interrupted by a clattering outside. Kyrie started to stand, but Lady gestured for her to stay seated. 

“I’ll check it out,” she told the maiden as she headed for the door leading outside, into the back alleys of Fortuna. Lady cast the younger girl a reassuring smirk. “It’s probably just a trash panda digging around in the compost looking for something digestible.”

“Trash panda?” Kyrie giggled at the description.

“A raccoon, baby doll. I don’t know what y’all call them overseas, but here? They’re trash pandas. Ring-tailed bandits. Assholes.”

Kyrie gasped, scandalized by the foul word spoken by a woman, but giggled behind her hand all the same. Grinning to herself, Lady opened the back door and stepped out, looking around.

She wasn’t a demon, like Trish. Lady’s heterochromatic eyes couldn’t see in the dark. Nor did her eyes have time to adjust to the shade of night at the edge of the gas-light glow from the kitchen. All she saw was a blob moving by the compost barrels outside the aura of orange, so that’s where Lady went. If her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, if she were a demon with eyes that could pierce the darkness, she would have been ready. She would have seen that the shape was a  _ different _ sort of bandit.

The hands grabbed her before she could fight back. One covered her mouth from the front, muffling her screams and curses. Another twisted her arm behind her back, sending spikes of pain through her shoulder each time she struggled. An arm circled around her waist, pinning her against a massive body. The cold threat of a blade touched her throat. Between the knife and the body against her, the fight was over before it began. Lady went still in her captor’s hold, glaring and huffing through her nose. 

“You blind fool,” Arkham’s voice hissed. “This is the wrong girl! We need the other one!”

“S-s-sorry b-b-boss,” Agnus stuttered, keeping a firm grip on Lady despite his quivering.

Arkham’s beady eyes narrowed at Lady. He slowly lowered his hand from her mouth, but kept the blade near her throat to keep her disciplined. “Call the girl out.”

“Which one?” Lady hissed. “There’s more than one girl in the Desert Rose, and none of them will give you the time of day if I have anything to say about it.”

He backhanded her so hard that Lady’s vision filled with stars. “Which one do you  _ think _ , you two-toned  _ twat _ ?!” Arkham snarled. “Kyrie! Now!” The cold blade kissed her neck, applying enough pressure to take the fight and sass out of her. “Call her out now, or I’ll have you wearing your tongue as a bonnet.”

Lady growled in her throat, but hissed in pain from her arm being twisted further. “Kyrie!” Lady yelped out. “Kyrie, could you come give me a hand with this?”

Arkham’s hand pressed against her mouth, muffling her whimper as Kyrie called back. “Certainly! Just one moment!”

She heard the chime of porcelain on porcelain as the maiden set down her cup, and the clack-clack of her boots on the hardwood floor. Lady drew a shaky breath as Kyrie’s shape appeared in the doorway leading out. Like Lady, the maiden fell into the trap as a man in the shadows kicked the door closed behind her and grabbed Kyrie. Only the golden light from the kitchen windows and the full moon above them illuminated the back alley.

The maiden squealed and flailed in the man’s arms. Arkham grinned wickedly, taking his hand from Lady’s mouth to withdraw that poisoned rag from his pocket. 

“I missed my chance to grab you when you screamed,” Arkham snarled to the maiden. “It was foolish of me to think that I could sneak you out of such a public place. But here?” The scarred man laughed. “Here, no one will come to your rescue. Go on, little girl. Scream all you want! At this time of night, the only people who can hear you are the drunkards, who are too lost to help you. No, no, no my dear. No one will save you this time.”

To Arkham’s disappointment and Lady’s surprise, Kyrie didn’t scream.

Instead, she  _ roared _ .

“Unhand me this instant!” Kyrie demanded with a tone that made even Agnus flinch. A trickle of warmth ran down Lady’s spine, causing her to shiver at the feeling of pure  _ power _ in Kyrie’s voice. Lady smirked to herself as the bandit holding her set Kyrie on her feet and let go of her. She shoved him away for added measure, her fiery amber gaze settling on Arkham. “And I  _ demand _ to know the meaning of this!”

Arkham sneered at her, twirling the knife in his hand as a juggler would idly spin a baton or toy in his hand. He circled her like a vulture as he spoke, her gaze following him. “The sheriff is no ally to Vergil. He’s crossed blades with my boss more than once regarding land disputes and the interpretation of land borders. And with a big dig coming up, Vergil would like some…  _ breathing _ room so to speak,” Arkham monologued. “How much, I wonder, would your dear brother pay to ensure your safe return? How much, I wonder, would he pay…” He stopped beside her, his body so close to Kyrie that it made Lady sick. Though his knife touched her chin to force her head up, his gaze wandered lower. “To keep us from touching you?” Kyrie yanked her chin away from him, and he scoffed at her. “You’re worth a great deal to us, girl. With you in our possession, Sheriff Credo would be at our beck and call. And Vergil will enjoy having a stubborn, headstrong woman to break into a weak-willed, mewling  _ slut _ .”

“So it was you.  _ You _ sent the telegram in my brother’s name to lure me here.”

“The difficult part was learning who you were in the first place. Planting Agnus as a deputy for a few months before he was caught and banished, intercepting mail and telegrams. Credo keeps his secrets well, but you… Once we discovered you, there was no question of what to do next. You are here now, and soon you will be in Vergil’s possession.” He grinned wickedly. “Perhaps as a reward for my forward thinking, he’ll grant me the privilege of having you second, once he’s grown bored of you.”

“Not quite yet.”

His brows furrowed at her, taken aback by her daring to talk back at him. “What do you mean?”

Kyrie removed a long glove from her hand. Arkham made no move to stop her as she reared her hand back and slapped him across the face with her glove. His eyes were wide as he looked at her, a hand rubbing his cheek where it stung. “I challenge you to a duel,” Kyrie proclaimed in defiance.

“A… a  _ duel _ ?!” Arkham looked to Agnus holding Lady prisoner still, the two men meeting each other’s gazes with equal confusion. The former scoffed at Kyrie once more. “You _ must _ be joking. Women do not  _ duel _ !”

“An  _ American _ woman, maybe not. But I am an English lady, and I will not stand here and allow a lowly,  _ common peasant, _ ” he flinched as she spat the words at him, “impugn my honor and dignity by handling me as if I were nothing more than a bag of sugar. So have at thee!” She reached toward Agnus with her bare hand and snapped at him. “A knife.  _ Now! _ And  _ then _ we will see who will be obeying whom.”

Agnus let go of Lady to pat himself down in search of a weapon. Lady spun around and kicked him between the legs, sending him to the ground in a crying, quivering puddle. She pulled a small dagger from it’s hidden sheath in her corset, holding the blade carefully to offer the grip to Kyrie.

“Take mine,” she told the maiden with a grin. Lady glanced at Arkham before lowering her voice to a whisper. “And be careful. He’s a demon too. A trickster type. He’s fast, limber, and he can use illusions.”

“A demon? But… he looks like a human.”

Lady smiled softly. Sadly. Yet another thing she and Trish would have to sit down and talk about if this  _ thing _ with Kyrie was going to continue. “Some demons do.” 

Arkham cleared his throat, his arms crossed and his knife tapping against his bicep impatiently. Lady gave Kyrie’s shoulders a final reassuring squeeze before backing away, giving the pair room for their duel. Even Arkham’s men stood back, out of the way. Kyrie took a deep breath and took a graceful fighting stance. The tip of her blade was pointed squarely at Arkham’s nose.

“My terms are this,” she said steadily. “If I should draw first blood from your torso, sir, then you  _ will _ leave Fortuna empty-handed and forgo any further attempt at my or any other girls’ capture or imprisonment.”

Arkham sneered at her as he dragged the edge of his blade against the flat of hers. Suddenly he snapped his wrist to tap the blades together flat against flat. Kyrie flinched, and he grinned darkly as he slid into a fighting stance of his own.

“Very well then,  _ girl _ ,” he hissed at her. “I accept your terms if you accept mine. When you lose, you’re  _ mine _ . You  _ will _ obey my every command. If you disobey me or raise so much as a  _ syllable _ of sass at me, Credo will be getting his precious sister sent to him by Pony Express one slice at a time.”

Kyrie swallowed in a dry throat and nodded. “I accept your terms.”

The two were as still as statues, unmoving as a cold breeze rustled the dust at their feet. Somewhere in the distance, a whip cracked, breaking them of their trance.

Arkham snarled and swiped at her in a wide arch. As Kyrie backed away, he grabbed her armed wrist with his bare hand. Kyrie grabbed his wrist in turn and dug her nails into the tendon just inside his arm. He hissed in pain as she wrenched his hand away. Steel clattered against steel and arm twisted out of hand as they fought to grab each other until Kyrie punched him hard in the nose, causing Arkham to stagger back for a moment. She smirked at him proudly as he touched his face and pulled his fingers away, coated in bright red blood. It hissed in the cold night air and steamed as it dripped onto the ground.

“This doesn’t count,” he growled.

“Very well then,” she replied breathlessly.

His eyes narrowed at her. “A lady shouldn’t know how to fight like a man. To punch like that…”

“I was trained by a man.”

“Take away my fun,” Arkham grumbled, his voice  _ different _ from before. It was an octave higher as the demon inside started to claw its way out. He grinned with a smile that was inhumanly long, like a terrible crescent moon. The man giggled as he pointed his dagger at Kyrie, drawing little circles in the air at her with it. “Lessons or not, I will still make you my little puppet, Kyrie,” he sneered at her, speaking with that creaking voice. His sunburnt skin paled to white briefly under her gaze as his broken nose healed itself and the dripping of blood stopped. He giggled once more. “I will make you dance and dance and dance until your cute little feet bleed. And then you’ll  _ beg _ for me to kill you. But I won’t. No, no, no, little Kyrie. I won’t kill you. I’ll make you dance and dance and dance until you  _ die _ from exhaustion.”

The maiden returned to her fighting stance, but now she wasn’t as firm as stone as she was before. The moonlight and gaslight danced on her blade with how much she was shaking. 

“I am  _ not _ afraid of you,” she stated, though who she was trying to convince, even Lady wasn’t sure. 

Laughing insanely, Arkham lunged at her. He moved so quickly that Lady was sure Kyrie wouldn’t see the knife coming toward her. However, the maiden moved to the side at the last moment and curled her arm around his, pinning his arm against her stomach harmlessly. She swiped at his face with her knife, forcing Arkham to bend backwards to avoid it. As he snapped forward, he headbutted her in the forehead. Kyrie staggered, letting go of his arm. He grabbed her by her corset and yanked her with enough force to spin the stunned maiden around. He pulled her close, with her back pressed against his chest. Kyrie came to her senses just in time as he turned his blade toward her and pulled it in as if to stab her. She held him back with her hand grasping his wrist and her knife against his at the guards. Her arms trembled as she felt him overpowering her, that blade edging closer.

He giggled darkly in her ear as they struggled. “Do you feel it, Kyrie?” Arkham whispered. “Do you feel my  _ blade _ penetrating you?  _ Thrusting _ deep into your warm body? Ohohoho, I’m going to make you  _ scream _ when I have you. I’m going to make you scream and cry as I  _ stab _ you again and again and again until the sheets are soaked with your blood and tears.” His beady eyes flicked up to Lady. “And then I’ll do the same thing to your friends. To Lady, to Trish, to all the little whores you know and love.”

“Send Vergil my regards,” Kyrie hissed in return.

Suddenly she let go and ducked in the same movement. The force of his pulling went into himself, and his arms went harmlessly over her head as Arkham stabbed himself in the gut. Kyrie twirled, slicing him once, twice, three times along his stomach and chest as she stood. She was out of breath as she shakily stepped back, her dagger pointed at him with a quivering arm. Arkham stared at her with wide eyes, staggering away as he dripped boiling, bright red blood over his clothes and ground. He pulled the knife out of his gut and looked at it in surprise, as if unbelieving that his own crooked dagger would betray him like that.

“Im… impossible…”

Kyrie said nothing as he snarled and sputtered curses at her. Agnus and his men led the bleeding man away. The point of her dagger followed them into the darkness of the alley, and it wasn’t until several minutes of quiet had passed before Kyrie let her arm fall with a heavy sigh.

Lady cautiously approached the girl. “Kyrie?”

The amber eyes that turned to her didn’t belong to a girl or a woman; they belonged to a frightened animal. Slowly Lady stepped closer, whispering softly with every step until she was near enough to pull Kyrie into a hug. She heard the dagger fall to the ground, and the girl’s shaking only intensified as she began to sob. Lady pet her hair and her back, rocking her back and forth where they stood.

“Shh, shh, shh, baby girl. It’s okay. It’s over now,” Lady murmured.

Kyrie shook her head against Lady’s shoulder. “No it’s not! He’ll try again! He’ll keep trying until I’m dead or... or worse…”

She couldn’t help but chuff. “No, he’ll give up now. You beat him, baby doll. You won!” Lady pulled her away enough to look the maiden in the eye. She pushed back her stray bangs and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “You gave Arkham a good whoopin’, and he’s gone off with his tail between his legs. He won’t be coming back for you for a long time, baby doll. It’s okay now. It’s all over.”

The maiden nodded and sniffled. “Oh goodness, look at this mess I’ve made! There’s blood all over. It’s on me! And oh dear, I’ve gotten it all over you.”

Lady laughed, shaking her head at the girl. “Don’t worry about it, love. Sunday, I’m taking you shopping to get a new dress, and then to Nico’s to get a dagger made, just for you. Where did you learn to fight like that anyway?”

“Credo,” Kyrie replied, kneeling to pick up the fallen weapon. “He thought it would be best if I knew how to protect myself from unwanted suitors, even before he went to war. He’s an expert swordsman, and he would teach me at any opportunity he could back home.”

“Are you okay?” Lady asked, her smile falling. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Kyrie smiled weakly, shaking her head. “No, I’m quite fine, thank you. A bit dizzy perhaps, and still rather shaky.” Her hand quivered as proof as she offered the knife back to Lady. “Thank you for allowing me to use it.”

Lady smiled as she took the dagger back, holding it in one hand and Kyrie’s hand in the other. She led the maiden inside. “C’mon, baby doll. You’re getting some fresh hot chocolate to help calm your nerves, and then you’re taking the night off to rest.”

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather return to my duties,” Kyrie replied, her eyes on the kitchen floor.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“I’d prefer it really. And I think I might finally let Dante buy me that drink.”

Laughing, Lady set the dagger on the little kitchen table and led Kyrie to the saloon.


	9. Chapter 9

Kyrie yawned and swayed on her feet as Lady counted out her daily pay from the till. Trish sat beside her partner, looking over the maiden. Her dress had been ruined with blood from her fight with Arkham, and though Lady had given her a shawl to cover it for the rest of the night, there was no amount of soaking or soaping that could save the dress. It would be another evening before Kyrie could get a night off; usually they were closed on Sundays to keep the local devout happy and off their backs. In the meantime, Trish had plans to shunt the girl to the kitchen until a new dress could be found or bought for her. Unless her mind could be changed…

As she had been the night before, Kyrie was the last in line to receive her pay. Trish was tempted to make a joke about how they had to stop meeting like this, but after putting away her dollars and coins, Kyrie hesitated.

Trish spoke before the maiden could finish gathering her thoughts. 

“Listen,” she murmured, shaking her head. “After what happened last night and the night before, I think you need to reconsider staying here. Credo’s right to be worried about you, and once Arkham’s finished licking his wounds, he’ll be back. He’ll just try again to steal you away. Maybe it would be better if you left Fortuna.”

“If I do…” Kyrie’s voice was a soft, childish whisper. “If I do, then that will mean he’s won. I told him last night that I’m not afraid. Leaving… running away would mean that I  _ am _ afraid.” 

She smiled a small, shy smile as she shook her head. Her eyes sparkled like fresh honey. 

“And yes, I am  _ terrified _ . I’m afraid of the west, and how different it is from home. I’m afraid of the dark. I have always been. I’m afraid of strange men who drink too much and are too loud. I startle easy at sounds that are too sudden and too loud, and I’m afraid of little things that zip past my feet. And I’m afraid of the monsters that surround Fortuna. But I can’t let him know that. Because if he knows that I’m afraid, he’ll know he’s won. And I can’t let him win. I can’t let myself be afraid of him or whatever he may threaten to do to me. Going back to England will not free me of those fears, of those dangers or threats. I will face them, no matter where I go.” 

Her eyes fell to her hands, holding her hard-earned money. 

“I thank you for your concern, Miss Trish, but I do insist on staying here. In England, I am a silly girl whose only hope for a future is a marriage to a man who can only give me a comfortable home and a cold bed. But here… In America, in Fortuna, at the Desert Rose, I can be more than that.”

Kyrie lifted her eyes to meet Trish’s, and when she smiled, Trish could feel it was sincere.

“I choose to stay.”

Reluctantly, Trish nodded. Credo hadn’t been wrong in saying that Kyrie was stubborn, but if this was the hill Kyrie was willing to die on, who was Trish to say otherwise? The blonde chuffed to herself at a thought, but said nothing further on the subject. “Is there anything else you need, my dear?”

Kyrie shifted on her feet, her lips pulled into a tight, thin line as she chewed on her words. 

“Yes, actually,” she finally said. “I… I know that your hourly rate… W-what I mean to say is…”

The maiden drew in a deep breath and sighed before raising her eyes to Trish’s once more.

“The other day, you spoke of my first kiss, and how you’d hate to see it taken by a vulgar man who smelled and had foul teeth. Last night, that almost happened. Had Arkham been stronger and more determined, he would have been the one to claim that right. If I am to continue to work here, I wish to do so without the worry of having my first kiss stolen from me by someone unworthy of it. So… Trish… I ask of you humbly and sincerely to allow me to sell to you my first kiss.”

Trish couldn’t hold it in. She burst out laughing at the girl’s proclamation, stopping short at a pointed glare from her partner. The firmness of Kyrie’s gaze and set jaw told Trish that the maiden was serious about the matter, and the sparkle of tears in her eyes was the pain the maiden felt at being laughed at. 

“Oh baby girl…” 

Trish smiled to Kyrie and stood, coming around the desk to face the maiden. In her heels, she was a hand and a half taller than Kyrie, making the maiden look all the more innocent and demure. 

“I’m sorry I laughed,” she apologized. “But it’s not every day that a cute girl tells me that she wants to be rid of her first kiss so eagerly. Are you absolutely sure about this? I’m sure Dante wouldn’t mind being the one to take your first kiss.”

Kyrie stood her ground. “I want it to be you.”

“Very well then.” Trish held out her hand. “For just a kiss, one dollar.”

She seemed taken aback by that. “Is that all a kiss from me is worth?”

Lady chuckled from where she sat behind the desk. “If anything, Trish should be the one paying you for the privilege of a kiss, not the other way around.”

“But I’m not a whore!”

“No, babydoll. You’re not. You’re just a client, like all the others, seeking a service.” Trish tucked a lock of hair behind Kyrie’s ear. “This is your last chance to walk away, dove. You don’t have to do this.”

The maiden’s hand was steady as she pulled the dollar from her little purse and handed it over. Her gaze was strong and determined on Trish’s eyes. She didn’t even watch as Trish tucked that dollar into her corset, into the tight valley between her breasts. Kyrie’s breath did hitch, however, as Trish brought her hands to Kyrie’s face, cupping her soft cheeks in the palms of her hands.

“Relax, babydoll,” Trish purred as she stroked Kyrie’s lips with her thumb. “I don’t bite…” She chuckled lowly, leaning in. Kyrie stood her ground, much to the blonde’s surprise and delight. “Unless you  _ want _ me to.”

Kyrie’s lips parted invitingly in a soft gasp, her eyes closing as Trish closed the distance between them. Just as she suspected, Kyrie’s lips were as soft as the cream inside puff pastries. It took everything in Trish to hold herself back, to keep from letting her hands wander, to keep from letting her tongue slip into that desirable warmth of Kyrie’s mouth. Instead, she kept her hands on Kyrie’s blushing face, and kept her lips chastly closed. Sparks tingled down Trish’s spine, warming the skin of her back as she felt Lady watching them. Did her partner approve? Disapprove? Was she judging Trish’s performance or Kyrie’s?

The maiden’s breath was shaky as Trish finally pulled away. Trish’s eyes fluttered open, and she smirked to herself at the sight of Kyrie’s still closed, her lips still  _ wanting _ . And Trish found herself wanting more as well; wanting to let her hands caress the maiden’s soft skin and to hear those delighted sighs pass between those plush lips.

Kyrie’s blush deepened as she opened her own eyes. She looked away, breaking the spell between them. “Thank you,” she said softly to Trish’s fancy shoes. Her eyes timidly lifted up to Lady, and she smiled shyly. “I suppose it would be rude of me to not make you the same offer.”

Lady giggled to herself as she also stood and came around the desk. She didn’t have Trish’s reservations about touching the other girl; Lady’s hands went to Kyrie’s waist, stroking the satin fabric up and down her sides. 

“Keep your dollar, honey,” she purred lowly as she leaned in to kiss Kyrie. “I owe you one for saving my skin earlier.”

The smaller brunette squeaked as Lady pulled her closer for a kiss of her own. Trish felt her whole body grow warm as she watched them kiss, and she had to lean against the desk and clutch the edge of it to keep from getting involved with them. Though Trish had had her fill of men and their joyless sex for the night, she could feel herself wanting more of Kyrie’s and Lady’s soft kisses and gentle touches. As Lady and Kyrie kissed, Trish’s gaze wandered over them, undressing both in her mind. She imagined running her hands over their smooth bodies. How would Kyrie’s skin feel in her hands? If the rest of her was as soft and supple as her lips had been...Trish bit back a moan at the thought of the rest of her body in her hands.

Her attention snapped back to the maiden’s face as Lady and Kyrie finally separated from their kiss. Kyrie was breathless, gasping softly as if she had forgotten how to breathe. And yet the maiden seemed…  _ disappointed _ . Her eyes fell to the floor once more.

“Thank you,” Kyrie mumbled in Lady’s general direction.

“Is there anything else we can do for you?” Trish asked as her partner came up beside her to sit on the desk. She tried not to think about Lady’s plush bottom or the heaven between her partner’s legs.

“No, I…” Kyrie fidgeted and covered her face shyly with her hands to try to hide her blush. Her mumbled words were muffled by her hands. “I believe it would be best if I bathed and retired for the day. Thank you again...for having me, and for…”

“Think nothing of it,” Lady replied with a smile. “And if there’s anything else you  _ need _ ,” she practically purred the word, “don’t hesitate to ask.”

Kyrie nodded and gave them a wobbly curtsey before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

Trish had only to look at her partner before Lady burst out into a fit of giggles. “You’re so cruel,” the blonde told her, shifting her position to stand in front of Lady. The brunette lifted her arms to wrap around Trish’s shoulders as the blonde parted her legs with gentle hands on Lady’s knees.

“Not as cruel as you are,” Lady murmured as she pulled Trish into a kiss. A  _ real _ kiss. Not a chaste touching of lips to lips as Kyrie’s had been, but a kiss that spoke words. As Lady kissed her, Trish could feel her partner’s own hungers, her own needs. Just as Trish had been reinvigorated by Kyrie’s kiss, so too had Lady. Her partner mewled softly in joy as Trish separated the kiss to drag her lips and tongue down the side of Lady’s neck, giving her a little nibble here and there on her way down. “ _ God, _ Trish, you should have seen her. The way she fought off Arkham. The way she kissed you. The way she  _ looks _ at you when we’re at work. I wasn’t so sure before, but I think I feel something for her.”

“Yeah, that’s called lust, you little horndog,” Trish muttered as she began to untie Lady’s corset.

“Trish, I’m serious.” The brunette’s smile fell as she grabbed her partner’s arms, pushing Trish away enough to let her expression show she meant what she said. Maybe Trish had misjudged her partner, feeling the mood dissipate between them like a thin mist scattered by wind. “She’s funny, witty, kind, absolutely brilliant… Trish, she knows how to fight. Like  _ really _ fight. The way she held that knife and fought against Arkham…” Lady shook her head. “And I can imagine she knows how to use a sword too.” She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Trishie, I love you. More than anyone I’ve ever loved before. But Kyrie… She…”

“What?”

Lady shook her head and shrugged at the same time, the movement rippling over her whole body where she sat. She smiled a small, childish smile. “Nevermind. Just forget I said anything.”

Trish sighed, smiling as she shook her head. She touched her forehead to Lady’s. “When you’re ready to talk about what it is you need to say, I’ll be here.”

“I know. And thank you.”

“Anything for you, my love.”

The blonde gave her partner a gentle kiss on her forehead and backed away. She hiked up her foot on the desk, and Lady unbuckled her fancy heels one at a time. Meanwhile, Trish reached back to remove her pearl choker and earrings. She stepped out of her shoes and put them and her jewelry away, then knelt in front of the desk to unlace Lady’s own boots.

As Lady had done for her, Trish unlaced one boot, and then the other. She stood and stepped back to let Lady step out of her boots and put them away. The blonde smiled to herself as Lady’s hands went up behind her head to untangle the ribbons and feathers from her chocolate brown hair. Trish wrapped her arms around her partner’s waist to untie her corset. Trish smiled as she cupped Lady’s cheeks with both hands, bringing her into a brief, soft kiss. 

She backed away, her fingers trailing against Lady’s skin for as long as she could before Lady was out of her grasp. Trish sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Lady pulled off her corset and laid it with the rest in her chest of drawers. Her skirt was neatly hung with the others, and she smiled as she turned and caught Trish watching her. Trish didn’t look away as Lady crossed the room to her, the brunette stepping between Trish’s spread legs. Her hands went to Trish’s hair, unpinning it and running her fingers through the golden locks as Trish’s hands caressed up and down the length of Lady’s sides and thighs. When she was finished, Lady pet Trish’s hair.

“You look like you want something.”

Trish pulled her partner closer and kissed Lady’s bare belly, looking up at her. “Would you be satisfied if I only pleasured you tonight? I’m in the mood to spoil you, but not much else.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to force you if you’re not feeling up for it.”

“You’re not forcing me, darling. I  _ want _ to spoil you.”

“Then tell me how you want me, love.”

“What’s the most comfortable for you?”

Blushing a bit, Lady pulled away from Trish’s grasp. She went around her partner to their pillows at the head of the bed, fluffed them, and stacked them up neatly. Lady sat on the bed and brought her legs around Trish and behind her, laying down so that she was partially propped up by the pillows. Her feathery brown hair fanned out as she looked up at Trish with her sultry gemstone eyes. Her ruby eye burned with a hungry fire while her sapphire blue eye sparkled like cold, refreshing water that sent chills down Trish’s spine. Her arms haloed around her head.

“I like it like this,” Lady told her in a low, seductive whisper. “I like it when you kiss all over me, like you’re worshipping me.” She giggled, her hands covering her face and her legs curling up so that she was an embarrassed little ball. “Is that selfish of me?”

“Not at all,” Trish purred as she laid down on her side against her partner.

She smiled down at Lady, kissing her softly as her hand uncurled Lady’s body. The brunette sighed as she was kissed, opening her mouth and legs to Trish’s whims. Her back arched into Trish’s hand as it slid over her sternum and bosom, caressing all over her torso. Her tongue swirled against Trish’s. She gasped and squeaked at the same time as Trish’s fingers slid against and between the folds of her womanhood. Lady was already moist, just from being kissed and caressed. Trish grinned down at her, watching the brunette writhe beneath her in want. Her eyes flicked up to the door, pausing as she heard a creak in the floorboard outside. Dismissing it as just the building settling, she turned her smile and attention back down to Lady.

“I enjoy worshipping you.”

“And I you,” Lady gasped, her arms encircling Trish’s shoulders to pull her into another kiss.

Trish let her partner pull her down onto Lady, her body eclipsing the brunette’s. Her legs straddled Lady’s knee, and though she had said that she wanted nothing in return, Lady still tried to entice her by rubbing against her womanhood with her leg and knee. She let Lady control their passionate kiss, her fingers drawing slow circles around Lady’s vagina, teasing her and eliciting wanton whines from her lover beneath her. Trish pulled her hand away to gently grab Lady’s wrists and pin them above her head. Lady’s body rippled, arching and aching to be touched more.

So Trish obliged, kissing down Lady’s neck to her bosom. Lady sighed highly as Trish drew her tongue in a long lick over Lady’s nipple, then drew circles around the little strawberry bud. She regretted not grabbing something to tie Lady down with, feeling a little kinky in her wish to spoil her partner, but she knew all she had to do was command Lady not to move, and the woman would obey.

She guided Lady’s hands to the bars of the bed frame and licked along the edge of Lady’s ear. “Don’t let go,” Trish commanded her.

Lady shuddered and nodded, grasping the bars above her head. Trish sat up, running a hand through her hair to flip it back out of her face. She couldn’t help but purr at the sight of Lady’s body stretched beneath her, just  _ begging _ to be touched. Her hands now free to do as she pleased, Trish opened Lady’s knees and shifted her body between them. Lady blushed and turned her head away as Trish admired the view, her electric blue eyes raking over the brunette’s body.

“I don’t think you realize how beautiful you are,” Trish murmured as her hands ran up Lady’s thighs and sides to cup her breasts. 

The brunette mewled as Trish’s thumbs rolled over her nipples. “I...I’m not though,” she stuttered between gasps. “I’m not that pretty...and my eyes are weird…”

“Yes, you are. You’re so breathtaking when you’re like this.” 

Trish kissed her lips lightly for a moment, then trailed her lips downwards. She felt Lady shiver against her as she kissed lower and lower, backing away. 

“Especially  _ here _ .” 

Lady whined as Trish ran her tongue along the length of Lady’s folds. The tip of her tongue swirled in a circle around Lady’s clit teasingly, drawing out whimpers from her lover.

And then she heard it.

A sigh, from somewhere else.

Somewhere outside.

Trish sat up quickly, her heart hammering in her chest. Was someone watching them?

“What is it?” Lady asked breathlessly as Trish got out of bed.

The blonde didn’t answer as she stormed across the room to their door. With every step, she listened. Someone scurried away. She gave no warning before she tore the door open and poked her head out.

Kyrie’s door closed quickly with a slam.

Trish chuffed to herself.

Perhaps their English maiden wasn’t so  _ innocent _ after all…

Lady was sitting up in bed as Trish closed the door once more. “What was it?”

“A little brown mouse,” Trish replied with a smirk. “Luckily, I know just the thing to catch little spying mice.”


	10. Chapter 10

Trish watched the stagecoach arrive before noon, as she smoked her morning cigarette. The coach was accompanied by eight riders, one of which had a massive saddlebag with the logo of the Pony Express embroidered into the canvas. The young rider was a familiar face to Trish, and Nero tipped his hat to her as he passed by the Desert Rose. His destination was the mail depot next door to the sheriff’s office, though she had little doubt in her mind that he’d be swinging in to share a cup of coffee with Credo afterwards. She smiled at him and tipped her hat right back before letting her attention go back to the stagecoach. The blonde knew before she even saw the passenger that they’d be nothing but trouble. She could feel it in the air, like a coming thunderstorm.

Her suspicions were confirmed when one of the other riders, a hardened mercenary, dismounted and opened the stagecoach door. He held his hand out for the passenger. A white-gloved hand came out of the darkness of the coach, resting on the mercenary’s hand for support as the woman came out and stepped down the folding stairs. She had the look of a showgirl; tall and willowy with her hair done up in a bun tucked inside her wide-brimmed hat. And though she was dressed in modest travel clothes, Trish could imagine that her costumes were in the many trunks that were being offloaded behind her.

The showgirl’s eyes met Trish’s from across the street, and the woman made a beeline for where Trish stood in the shade of the Desert Rose. Trish sighed to herself and snuffed her cigarette on the bottom of her boot, putting away what was left in her little tin. As the showgirl walked, she swayed her hips and fanned herself with a feathery fan that seemed more fashionable than functional.

“Is this the  _ only _ establishment in Fortuna with a stage?”

Trish had to bite her tongue to keep herself from answering immediately. She forced a smile at the woman, who from a distance had appeared to be the same age as Lady. But up close, Trish could see the heavy amount of powder she used to hide the lines and wrinkles in her face. The years were etched into her beauty, marring it rather than enhancing her wilting good looks.

When she was certain she wouldn’t respond with snark or poison, Trish finally replied, “No, ma’am. There’s another saloon about a mile from here on the other side of town that has a stage.”

“First of all, it’s  _ miss _ . And secondly, you mean to tell me that despite the size of this city, there’s no theater?”

“No, miss. We had a theater once, but it burned down. Since it wasn’t very popular to begin with, it was never rebuilt.”

The woman scowled appallingly, exposing every line and wrinkle her make-up tried to hide. “Good heavens, what do your men  _ do _ when they’re bored?”

“Gamble, mostly,” Trish answered, as if the question had been meant for her. “And drink. They’re not exactly the most cultured bunch.”

“Well, we’ll see about  _ that! _ ” The woman offered her hand to Trish. “Patricia Lowell,” she introduced herself as Trish took her hand and bowed over it, kissing her knuckles as a gentleman would. “You have heard of me.”

Trish had, but not for the reason the woman would have liked. For the sake of polite conversation, she opted not to tell Miss Lowell outright that there were letters circulating throughout the saloons of the west regarding the showgirl and her unprofessional etiquette. There weren’t many women who were on the entertainer blacklist, but Miss Lowell was at the top of it. 

“I have. Your reputation precedes you, Miss Lowell. What brings,”  _ Ugh, _ “an entertainer of your caliber to Fortuna? Surely our humble little town is too small of a venue for someone of your professional level.”

She regretted her flattering words as she watched Miss Lowell puff with pride. “Well, I must admit, I  _ am _ between tour locations. I was just on my way south towards Little Rock when my escort suggested stopping here to rest and water their horses. Perhaps for a few dollars, I  _ could  _ be convinced to stay the night and perform for an evening.”

As loathed as she was to do so, Trish made a sweeping gesture toward the doors of her saloon. “Then come inside and have a drink with me. The first one is on the house, and we can talk business.”

“Of course.” Miss Lowell turned from Trish to wave at the men unloading her carriage. Seeing the gesture, they hefted up her luggage and headed for the saloon. Miss Lowell offered her arm to Trish. “After you.”

Trish looped her arm in Miss Lowell’s and led her inside. At the same time they were coming in, she noticed Kyrie coming downstairs; the English maiden watched them with interest as they headed for the bar. Miss Lowell caught sight of her as Kyrie reached the bottom of the stairwell. The entertainer hid her face behind her fan to mask her thoughts as she looked Kyrie up and down, assessing her dusty white day dress and her auburn hair pinned up English style with little curling ringlets framing her face. 

“Well,  _ hello _ little one,” Miss Lowell cooed at last, lowering her fan. “Come here and introduce yourself like a proper young lady.”

Kyrie smiled as she joined Miss Lowell at the bar, curtsying lowly and bowing her head. “Kyrie Eleison, mum.”

“An English girl! All the way out here! How extraordinary!”

Trish poured herself and their guest a shot of whiskey from the common bottles. “Miss Patricia Lowell is an entertainer on her way to Little Rock for a show. I was hoping I could persuade her to stay for the evening and perform while she was here.”

The maiden’s eyes lit up. “Really?” Her smile was as bright as gold. “Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve seen an American stage show!”

“You’re familiar with burlesque, little miss?”

“Yes, mum. I worked in several theaters during my travels as assistants to dancers and performers.” She blushed timidly, hiding her smile behind her hands. “I mostly mended costumes and applied powder. Nothing too extraordinary.”

“Well, it  _ just _ so happens that I am in need of an assistant! Tell me, dear, how long are you staying here in Fortuna?”

“Oh, I…” Kyrie’s gaze bounced between Trish and Miss Lowell. “You see, I…”

“She’s in town to visit her brother,” Trish covered for her. “But the sheriff has been too busy as of late. Miss Eleison has been rather bored and lonely of company. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind at all assisting you this evening.”

“Y-yes! I mean, no. No! I won’t mind! It wouldn’t be any trouble at all! That is...if you’ll have me.”

“Why of  _ course _ I’ll have you, sweetie!” Miss Lowell cast a side glance at Trish, her voice lowering to a stage whisper. “I don’t expect any other American girl to do half as well as  _ you _ could.” She smiled at Kyrie. “Since it’s settled, be a dear and take my bags up to my room.”

“Which room would that be?”

“The best room there is, dear. Just poke your head around and whichever room is the biggest and has the best view of Fortuna will do.”

Kyrie glanced at Trish, both of them knowing that the room Miss Lowell was already being occupied. By Kyrie. Trish gave their honored guest a professional smile. “One moment.” She ducked under the bar to where she kept a lockbox of guest room keys. The key was handed over to Kyrie. “That room should do nicely.” She felt like she owed Kyrie an apology for putting the entertainer next door to Kyrie, but Trish had a sneaky feeling that Miss Lowell would not be staying long enough to discover the truth of her boarding.

“Once you’re done carrying my things upstairs, I’m in need of a bath. My hair and skin is so dusty and dirty from traveling that I must look like an Injun!”

Trish bit her tongue  _ hard _ to keep from rebuking their guest, and even Kyrie drew her lips into a thin line at the entertainer’s vulgar language. Saying nothing, Kyrie nodded and began toting the mountain of luggage back and forth between the pile at the saloon door and the room upstairs.

The blonde demon sighed and swallowed her drink in a single gulp before pouring another. It was going to be a long night, and Trish found herself praying that Miss Lowell would be worth the trouble.

But she couldn’t deny that rock sinking in her stomach. Her gut always knew when trouble was brewing, and she hoped that for once she was wrong.


	11. Chapter 11

Trish saw Kyrie only in passing for the rest of the day. Miss Lowell kept the maiden busy, from drawing her bath to cooking the entertainer’s lunch and dinner to mending some of her dresses and undergarments. She even had Kyrie hanging posters around Fortuna advertising her show, but upon closer inspection of the fading print, Trish noticed that all the signs were advertising for shows in cities elsewhere. Montgomery, Tallahassee, St Louis, Chicago, New York...everywhere  _ but _ Fortuna. The blonde’s neck ached from how much she shook her head from the time of Miss Lowell’s arrival to when Trish began getting ready for the evening rush at the Desert Rose. Lady knew her partner well enough to know that something was bothering her; she also knew her partner well enough to give Trish her space. They’d been together for years, and Lady had learned quickly when to intervene and when to keep back. And this was a night where Lady kept her distance, giving Trish only a soft, sweet peck before they went downstairs to feed their girls and start pouring drinks.

At five o’clock, the normal patrons didn’t trickle in. Instead, the saloon was flooded with locals and visitors, familiar faces and strangers from sister cities near and far. Trish had her hands full keeping the alcohol flowing as her girls came and went with tray after tray. The show wasn’t even starting until later that evening, yet the notion of singing and dancing girls in short skirts and sheer stockings was enough to bring in more than her usual clients. 

The blonde lost track of the time, buried as she was under drink orders, that she didn’t realize something was wrong until she saw Kyrie’s head floating amongst the crowd. Her white dress was like a ghost among the dark leathers and denims of the other men, and though she smiled and conversed with every person she passed, she seemed lost in the crowd. The maiden hopped on her toes, trying to look past the sea of heads and hats, until someone finally offered a hand to help her up onto a chair. With her new vantage point, Kyrie continued her search before shaking her head and hopping down. She squeezed through the throng towards the bar. The maiden had never come behind the counter since she’d arrived, but something had her so concerned that tonight she made an exception.

“Miss Lowell has gone missing,” Kyrie told the blonde before Trish could ask her what was wrong.

“ _ What?!” _ Trish hissed, feeling her eyes bug out and her face blanch at the news.

“She sent me on a list of errands two hours ago, and I haven’t seen her since.”

Lady came up to Trish’s other side, leaning in to whisper. “I’ve checked her room, and all the other ones that aren’t in use, but all of her luggage is missing too. And no one’s seen Daisy since she went home last night. My guess? She sprinkled a little stardust in Daisy’s eyes and the two booked it.”

Trish growled in her chest. “Why that… two-timing… low-down… double-crossing…  _ scumbag! _ Does she realize what she’s  _ done _ ?!”

“She’s ruined us, is what she’s done,” Lady grumbled, pouring herself a shot. She swallowed it back without a wince. “We paid her in advance, and she wasn’t cheap.”

“And these guys are going to be  _ pissed _ when they learn there isn’t going to be a show…”

Kyrie glanced between them and the crowd, her eyes fluttering to the girls floating about the room. A small smile bloomed on her face. “Maybe not,” the maiden mumbled to herself. She hopped on her toes at an excited thought. “Give me just a moment.”

Trish and Lady exchanged confused glances as Kyrie skipped away to disappear in the crowd. They glimpsed the ghost of her white gown as she reappeared beside the serving girls, leaning close to whisper in their ear and infect them with her contagious, mischievous smile. One at a time, the saloon girls brought back their empty trays and passed Trish and Lady at the bar to go out back, returning with colorful bundles of cloth that they took upstairs to Kyrie’s room. She went to the girls dancing with partners on the dance floor, she went into the kitchen to visit with the cooks and the dishwashers, and she even went upstairs, knocking on door after door. The plain dish girls took up the trays to serve drinks, and some of the girls Kyrie attempted to enlist remained behind with a smile and shake of their head. Kyrie was the last to go into the backyard and return with a bundle of colorful satin in her arms, and Trish grabbed her before she could go upstairs.

“What’s going on?” Trish demanded.

The maiden gave her a reassuring smile. “Trust me,” Kyrie told her boss. She rested a hand on Trish’s giving her a gentle squeeze. “The men want a show? We’ll  _ give _ them a show. Just keep serving drinks as best as you can. Once the music starts, though, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about the men for much longer.”

Lady’s eyes went wide with realization. “Kyrie, you’re not…”

Kyrie shrugged out of Trish’s gasp to entwine her fingers with Lady’s hand. “Shush! You’ll ruin the surprise! Now, come with me. I’ll need your help too!”

Laughing, Lady let Kyrie pull her upstairs. Kyrie let go of her long enough for Lady to go to the room she shared with Trish to grab her make-up box before she, too, disappeared into Kyrie’s room. Trish shook her head, not for the last time she knew, and did as told. Occasionally she’d hear a door open and close above her, and she saw Lady come down to retrieve songbooks from the piano man, who kept the saloon lively with jaunty tunes.

By seven, the men began to get restless. A show should be starting soon, and they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the grand Miss Lowell they were promised. And even they could tell there weren’t as many serving girls or dancing girls on the floor. Without the pearls in their bedrooms to satisfy them, Trish heard more than one complaint that there weren’t any pretty girls to look at or touch. Above her head, she heard a door open and a cacophony of heels on the hardwood floor before another door opened and closed. There was a hidden passage from Lady and Trish’s room down to the back of the stage, and she reasoned that that was where the girls were going.

A woman appeared on stage, going to the piano man and kneeling at the edge of the stage to address him. Trish overfilled a mug as she stared at and studied the woman, then became stunned with realization. The woman had her auburn hair done up in a mountain of curls and white ostrich feathers, matching the feathers in her short bustle and the satin of her corset and ruffles. To say that she was wearing a skirt would have been a stretch; it was really just enough satin and tulle to hide her bloomers and garterbelt. And her  _ legs _ ! They seemed to go on for miles! The fishnet stockings didn’t help either, nor did her short ankle-boots.

Kyrie was no longer a maiden, or at least not in  _ that  _  outfit. If Credo saw her in that get-up, Trish just knew he’d burn the place down with everyone inside. Out of instinct, she skimmed the crowd for his white hat, but didn’t see it at first blush. Her attention diverted back to Kyrie as she handed the piano man his music books back, as well as a paper. The maiden pointed down the list. By the way the maiden was dressed, and the way the others she assumed were as well, Trish guessed it was the playlist of the evening’s entertainment.

Her partner joined Trish behind the bar, a wide grin on Lady’s face as she began filling mugs with water and loading them on a tray. Trish couldn’t help but smile, feeling her excitement. 

“Alright, what’s going on?” Trish asked as they booty-bumped one another at the taps.

“Something we should have thought of a  _ long _ time ago, Trishie. Who needs to pay a two-bit entertainer when we’ve already got a better one on our payroll?”

Trish’s attention turned to Kyrie on the stage as she stood up straight and brought her fingers to her painted lips. The two-note whistle pierced the rumble of conversation in the crowded saloon, bringing all conversation to a halt and all eyes to her. Lady gave a smile, a wink, and a last booty-bump to Trish before she carried the tray of water-filled mugs backstage to the girls waiting at the wings.

“I thank you for your attention, gentlemen of Fortuna and the Desert Rose,” Kyrie addressed them, her voice pitched to reach the far corners of the saloon. 

Dante, sitting at the end of the bar in his usual place, looked impressed. He gave Trish a grin and raised eyebrows before his eyes returned to the maiden on the stage as she continued speaking.

“Due to an unfortunate case of cowardice and malice, Miss Lowell will not be appearing on stage this evening.”

A few men near the stage began to boo, but Kyrie held up her hands both in defense and to silence them.

“Now, I know that this may seem like terrible news, but I assure you, the show she would have performed would not have been worth the visit to the doctor afterwards.”

This earned her a few earnest chuckles.

“I’d do an impression of Miss Lowell’s singing, but I believe I’ve broken enough glass in the last few nights. And since the girls who normally serve your drinks will be performing this evening, I don’t want to further deprive you of your drinks by having them shatter in your hands. We don’t want to create a mess in your laps.” She winked at the crowd. “Yet.”

She waited until they were done laughing and hooting before she raised her hands and her voice to them once more. “And now then! For the pleasure and the entertainment of Fortuna, I bring you the flowers and pearls of the Desert Rose!”

Kyrie led her audience in applause as she backed away from the stage and the curtains opened. The piano man knew his cue and began to play the first song as the first trio of girls came to the front and center of the stage. As the trio in red, purple, and blue satins began to sing a ballad of love, loss, and triumph, Kyrie snuck around to join Trish at the bar. Trish opened her arms to her, and Kyrie fell giggling into her embrace, resting her head on Trish’s shoulder. Trish pat her hair, careful to not disturb her curls or feathers.

“So where’d you get the costumes?” Trish asked as Kyrie pulled away to fan herself.

“In her haste to depart, Miss Lowell left behind her laundry hanging in the back yard to dry. I doubt she’ll miss them, and if she does, she’s more than welcome to come back for them.”

Trish chuffed at the thought. “No, I doubt we’ll ever see Miss Lowell ever again.”

“A pity, really. Oooh, I could just… I don’t know…  _ spit _ on her for abandoning us like this.”

“I’m glad she did.”

The maiden paused in her fanning to turn wide eyes to Trish. “Really? But…  _ why _ ?!”

She allowed her eyes to look over the maiden beside her, who blushed under Trish’s gaze. “Because if she hadn’t, then I would have never had the opportunity to see you all dressed up like this, or to hear you sing and see you dance.”

Kyrie blushed and hid behind her fan. “I-I should go.”

The blonde watched her retreat backstage once more, trying  _ not _ to think of how well the maiden wore the costume of a mature woman. For the rest of the night, at least, Trish served her patrons their drinks with an authentic smile.


	12. Chapter 12

For the first time in years, or at least as far as Trish remembered, she didn’t have to call for final rounds of drinks. After hours of song and dance, drinking and casual sex, the patrons filtered out on their own. Trish hummed to herself as she locked up behind the last of the patrons, and Lady carried the till upstairs. The chairs were all up on the tables, the floor swept, and Dante waited by the door as the girls lined up at the staircase to receive their evening pay. The clock under the bar chimed two o’clock in the morning as Trish followed her partner upstairs to their room. It hadn’t gone beyond her notice that Kyrie was once more at the end of the line.

One by one, the girls were paid until it was Kyrie’s turn. She waited on the other side of the desk; she didn’t shift or fidget under Trish’s hard gaze as Lady counted out her dollars and cents. The maiden stood still, her eyes on Trish’s in return. As if she knew what she wanted, and that Trish would give it to her.

“There you go, darlin’!” Lady said with a grin, sliding over the money to Kyrie. She sat back in her chair as Kyrie picked up the bills and counted them.

Her brows furrowed as she counted once, and then twice to make sure she hadn’t miscounted. The maiden’s eyes went to the ceiling as she did the mental arithmetic. “This is too much!” Kyrie exclaimed.

Lady shrugged. “Think of it as a bonus for saving our hides with that show.”

“We made back what we lost from that lousy cheat,” Trish added with a smile. “So why not give you just a little extra to make up for the trouble?”

As expected, she blushed at their kind words. “It was no trouble, really.”

Trish laced her fingers together and rested her chin on her hands. She knew the answer to the question before she spoke it, watching Kyrie and waiting for the maiden to put away most of her money. Save for two dollars. 

“Anything else we can do for you, sweetling?”

Kyrie squared her shoulders and nodded, sliding one of those dollars to Trish. “I’d like a kiss, please.”

“Alright then.”

The blonde stood and circled her desk to stand in front of the maiden. In her own heels, Kyrie was the same height as Lady when the brunette was shoeless; the top of her head came just shy of Trish’s nose. The maiden held her ground and didn’t shy away as Trish brought her hands to Kyrie’s cheeks, her eyes closing as Trish slowly closed the distance between them. She felt Kyrie relax in her hands as their lips touched in a soft, sweet kiss, and she felt the maiden’s hands tentatively come to rest on Trish’s waist. Satisfied, Trish pulled her lips away.

“More,” Kyrie whispered against her lips.

The woman chuckled lowly. “That’ll cost you, sweetling.”

Her hand left Trish’s waist to flail on the surface of the desk in search of the second dollar she had laid down. When Kyrie found it, she was the one who tucked it into the cleavage of Trish’s corset, biting her lower lip as her honey-gold eyes fluttered up from Trish’s bosom to meet the blonde’s electric blue.

“You’re very bold tonight, little one,” Trish commented as Kyrie stepped nearer, their bodies pressing together.

“Do you dislike it?” Kyrie asked, her words weighed down with worry.

Trish’s eyes fell to the maiden’s lips as she considered her answer. Kyrie  _ was _ beautiful, and so much more. She was brilliant and witty, courageous and resourceful. She was every bit as strong and independent as Lady, and had all the characteristics that Trish loved about her partner. So why did Trish hesitate? Why did she feel guilty holding Kyrie in her arms, as if she were cradling a precious treasure to be stolen away in the night? Her eyes flicked to Lady, who watched with a smile. Trish had meant to talk to her partner about this; about her suspicion of who was watching them at night, about what their observer might want. She had meant to ask Lady, to discuss with her more thoroughly, the possibility of opening their hearts and their bed to another. To a third.

“Miss Trish,” Kyrie’s soft voice broke the blonde out of her thoughts. When Trish faced her, the maiden was smiling softly. Perhaps even sadly. “You are thinking too much about a simple question.” Her eyes fell as she let go of Trish and stepped away, out of Trish’s space and grasp. “I’ve made you uncomfortable with my selfish request and insecurities. Forgive me. I bid you both a good evening.”

“Now wait just a second,” Trish stopped her before Kyrie could escape. The maiden stopped at Trish’s words, but didn’t turn to face her. She must have known what was on Trish’s mind; even from behind, Trish could see Kyrie’s blush had extended to the tips of her ears. The blonde came up behind Kyrie and wrapped her arms around her torso. Kyrie’s back arched against Trish as the blonde’s hands explored her body, cupping a breast as a hand rested on her abdomen. She purred in Kyrie’s ear. “You paid for me, darling. I still owe you a kiss.”

“And what about me?” Lady asked as she joined them. Trish felt Kyrie shiver in her arms as Lady stalked toward her, sandwiching the smaller woman between them. Her arms fell onto Kyrie’s shoulders, and the maiden’s trembling hands went to her sides. “Don’t I get a kiss too?”

“Tell you what,” Trish answered before Kyrie could. “Why don’t I split that second dollar with you? Holding her like this is enough for me.”

Lady shrugged with one shoulder. “Works for me.” Her mischievous mismatched eyes met Kyrie’s. “Will that be alright for you, sweetie?”

Kyrie nodded shakily, sighing as words failed her. Trish amused herself by kissing Kyrie’s neck and shoulder as Lady pulled herself closer and brought her lips to Kyrie’s. They kissed softly, a gentle touching of lip to lip, until Lady pushed deeper. Kyrie gasped as Lady’s tongue touched her lips, inadvertently admitting the older brunette entry past her parted lips. The maiden squeaked and stiffened in Trish’s hold. Slowly, though, she melted as Lady controlled the kiss, swirling her tongue in the warmth of Kyrie’s mouth and savoring the moist flavor of the maiden’s tongue. She must have been a naturally good kisser; Trish felt Lady press her body closer to Kyrie, her hands unable to keep still as they kissed.

When they finally separated, both of them were out of breath. Lady pressed her forehead to Kyrie’s, grinning. “Oh baby girl,” she murmured. “Keep kissing me like that, and I’ll get addicted.”

Kyrie’s body felt warm against Trish’s hands. Suddenly she squirmed out of Trish’s hold. Her head bowed, Kyrie stepped past Lady, stuttering all the while. “I-I should go. I’m sorry to have kept you up so late. I-I need to go wash. Good evening!”

Trish watched her go with an amused smile, Kyrie closing the door behind her. Lady, however, didn’t look as amused. Her hands planted on her hips in annoyance. “What was  _ that _ all about?” Lady asked her smirking partner.

She ran a finger along Lady’s jaw to under her chin, holding her in place to kiss her. “Do as I say,” Trish whispered against her lips, “and all will reveal itself shortly.”

Lady shivered and grinned. “What’cha got on your mind, Trishie?”

Her hand and her eyes fell from Lady’s face. “She’s fallen in love.”

“With who?”

“One of us.” Trish shrugged. “Both of us. It’s hard to say so soon, but…”

“And that’s what’s got her wound up?”

“I think so. I think she wants something she’s convinced she can’t have.”

“So, what do we do?”

“What do you _ want _ to do?”

“Her. You.” Lady shrugged, her hands running over Trish’s corset and skirts to smooth the wrinkles from them. “Trishie babe, I love you. You were here to catch me when I fell off the wagon, literally. You got me on my feet. You believed in me when no one else would. You are…” She shook her head and swallowed back an audible lump. “You are the foundation on which I rebuilt my life. And I know that’s unfair to you. You have your own life and shit, but…”

“Lady, I’m not going to leave you for her,” Trish reassured her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Lady’s ear. “And I know you. You’re a wild and free spirit. You want what you want, and you want it now, because you never know if you’ll get another chance.” She smiled at Lady. “And I’m the same way. I won’t be here forever, and I can’t expect you to take a vow of chastity if anything should happen to me. I want to know that there’ll be someone there for you, to take care of you and love you if I’m gone.”

“You too, Trishie.” Lady’s smile was a little sad. “My father may be a demon, but I’m a human. At best, you’ll get to watch me grow old and wither away. At worst…” She shook her head. “The west is rough, the deadlands are rougher, and you taught me that there’s worse things to fear on Earth than Hell. Even if I live to grow old with you, I’ll still feel better knowing that you won’t be alone if something happens to me too. We live on the edge of darkness, and it likes to remind us of that sometimes. So we take what light we can. Besides…” Lady chuckled to herself. “We both like her. And you’re right. She likes us too, to let us kiss her like that.”

“We agree then. Our circle, and our hearts, open to her.”

Lady nodded. “But what if she doesn’t want in?”

“Like I said…” Trish’s voice lowered to a seductive hum, making Lady shiver as she felt the demon’s power trickle down her spine with just the sound of her voice. “Do as I tell you, and all will be revealed.”

“Whatever you want, babe,” Lady moaned, offering her neck for Trish to kiss.

The blonde turned Lady’s body as she kissed and nibbled the length of Lady’s neck. She guided Lady to the desk and sat her on it, spreading her partner’s legs wide. Lady moaned again as Trish’s hands ran up her thighs, pushing up her skirts to expose her moist womanhood. Their lips met in hungry kisses, parting occasionally gasp for air and kiss each other’s cheek, neck, shoulder; wherever their lips would land. As they kissed, Trish’s hands were at work, undressing her partner further. Lady sighed, more in relief than in pleasure, as her corset was loosened enough to be pulled over her head. Trish set her corset beside Lady’s hand on the desk and fondled her breasts.

She spoke against Lady’s lips. “Touch yourself.”

“Where?”

Trish guided Lady’s hand between her legs, to her damp folds. “Here. Touch yourself here. I’ll be right back.”

Lady whimpered as Trish stepped back and out of her hold, but did as commanded. Her eyes closed and her head fell back as she ran her fingers over herself, opening her folds to run her fingertips over her clit and vagina. She didn’t see Trish creep toward their door, standing beside it with a hand on the knob. Trish’s heart hammered in her chest, nearly deafening her from what she was listening for.

But soon she heard it.

A door in the hallway opened, the rusty old hinges only creaking louder as the person tried so hard to be quiet. The door swinging closed and the latch locking into place. Soft steps of bare feet on the wood. That creak of the loose board right in front of Trish and Lady’s door. The shuffle of cloth as someone sat and got comfortable. A soft gasp and sigh as an eye peeked through the keyhole at Lady on the desk.

Without warning, Trish tore open the door and grabbed their little spy by her hair. Kyrie shrieked in surprise and pain as she was dragged inside, dropping her little hand mirror as she was flung into Lady. Startled from her self-pleasure, Lady grabbed her knife from her corset and caught Kyrie in her arms. She held the blade to Kyrie’s throat to keep her from fighting back. 

“Well, well, well,” Trish mused as she closed the door behind her, leaning on it to observe them.

Her partner, her Lady, nearly naked and aroused; Kyrie in her vice-like hold with legs and arms wrapped around the maiden’s body. And Kyrie. In the time since she’d left, Kyrie had let her hair down and brushed it until it glowed in the gas-light. Her auburn locks hung down to her bosom and down her back. She wore practically nothing, only her cotton night-shift that was almost sheer. Tears glittered in Kyrie’s eyes as they watched Trish, the blonde crossing the room to them. 

“It’s rather improper for a girl to watch the going-ons of adults through keyholes.”

Trish made a gesture, and Lady lowered her blade from Kyrie’s throat.

“I’m not a child!” Kyrie argued. “I  _ am _ nineteen! And I wish...I wish that…” Her eyes fell and she sniffled. “I wish that you’d see that! That I’m not a child! I wish that you’d stop treating me like one! And that you’d treat me like a woman!”

Lady loosened her grip enough to allow Kyrie to flail herself free. The maiden hugged herself as she backed away from them.

“Oh, little dove,” Lady sighed, grabbing her corset to cover herself. “Is that why you were watching through our keyhole? Because you think  _ that’s _ what makes you a woman?”

Kyrie nodded at first, then shook her head. “It’s not just that,” she fumbled to explain. “It’s…” The maiden sighed heavily. “It’s that  _ damn _ innocence! It’s being so pure and naive that people don’t  _ listen _ to me. They don’t...they don’t  _ see _ me. All they see is Sheriff Credo’s darling little sister. All they see is a cute little English maiden. I don’t like it. I don’t want it!” 

She brought her hands to her eyes and cheeks as she cried, her words trembling as they continued to spill from her.

“I am  _ more _ than just a girl! I am a woman! I crossed America by myself! And… and I can do all sorts of things that other women can do! But just because I’m a silly, unmarried, unspoiled  _ girl _ , I’m looked over or worse. And I’m  _ sick _ of it!” 

She pulled her hands away from her face, revealing her pink nose and the red streaks on her cheeks, burned by the path of her tears. 

“I don’t want to be innocent anymore. I want to be a woman, like you two! And I want...I want someone to  _ see _ me. Not just as Credo’s sister, but as a woman. I want someone to see me the way you two see each other. I want someone to look at me the way you two look at one another. I want…I want someone to desire me and love me...not because I’m a maiden or Credo’s sister. But because I am Kyrie Eleison!”

A thick quiet settled over the room, the other two women stunned into silence by Kyrie’s passionate words. Trish went to a drawer and grabbed a handkerchief, offering it to Kyrie.

“I know your pain, Kyrie,” she said as the maiden patted her cheeks and eyes dry. “I came to Fortuna a long, long time ago, when the Desert Rose wasn’t even an idea. When all there was here was a horse ranch, cattle ranch, a post office, and a grocery store. I was a mail-order bride to a man who had been widowed when his wife died in a horrible murder. Her body was still warm in the grave when I arrived, and her face and mine…” She shook her head. “I heard her name more than I heard my own for those first few weeks. But I made a point. I made it clear to him, and to everyone, that I was not her. That I was my own woman, that I had my own will and my own ideas. I wouldn’t let anyone besmirch her good name with my demon reputation. After my husband passed, for a while people only thought of me as his widow. I had to make that point again, that I am me and no one else. I took what was left, what he left to me, and I built the Desert Rose. I was born again from it. No one called me her name, or by my husband’s name, ever again. I became Trish.”

Lady nodded, holding her corset to her bosom as she waited for her partner to finish. The woman with mismatched eyes had a story of her own. 

“I know your pain too, Kyrie,” she chimed in with a sad smile of her own. “I was a little girl when my father killed my mama to become a demon. Everyone around me treated me different after. Some coddled me, trying to protect me from the evil that I knew lurked on this earth. Others spat on me. They kicked dirt at me and abused me because they thought I was going to be like him, that I was going to kill for power too.” Lady chuckled to herself. “They weren’t wrong, either. I did start killing, when I got old enough to figure out how. Demon after demon, monster after monster, each one leading me a step closer to that nightmare that used to be my daddy. I found him in Fortuna, but he doesn’t see me anymore. Not as his daughter at least. Now, I’m just another human to feed off of. I’m another whore to jerk off onto. I’m another hunter to be killed. He probably would have raped and killed me that night, if you hadn’t beat him at his own game.”

Kyrie’s eyes went wide in realization. “Arkham...Arkham is your father.”

Lady nodded.

“I don’t understand,” Kyrie mumbled into her handkerchief. She blew her nose and sniffled a bit before lowering the fabric of her face. “I don’t understand. If you yourselves have been in such similar situations, then why? Why treat me the way you despised others for treating you?”

The pair looked between one another, and Trish answered first. “We wanted to protect you.”

“We didn’t know how strong you were, or that you could fend for yourself so well.”

Trish offered her hand to Kyrie, and was a little surprised that the maiden accepted. Kyrie’s skin was as soft as she remembered, even though they had touched only moments ago. She guided Kyrie closer, and Lady offered her hand as well. Kyrie had to empty her other hand first, setting her used handkerchief on the desk before she accepted Lady’s hand as well. Lady lowered her other arm from her torso, chuckling to herself as she caught Kyrie eyeing her exposed bosom. The maiden’s eyes returned to Trish, who held Lady’s other hand so they were together in a circle.

“Kyrie, dear, when you first came to Fortuna, yes. We  _ did _ think of you as a child, as a young woman innocent to the darkness of the world.”

“But now we know better,” Lady said with a smile, squeezing Kyrie’s hand. “Now we know that you’re as strong, as resourceful, as independent as the rest of us devilish sirens here in Fortuna.”

She giggled at the compliment.

The blonde sighed. “Now, all there’s left to do is something about that pesky innocence of yours.”

Kyrie’s smile and eyes fell to the floor. “I… I can accept that… if you don’t like me, that I… that I’ll just be another customer. But please. I’m begging you.” She lifted her gaze to Trish and to Lady. “Take my innocence away! I’ll pay you if I must! However much you want! I’ll give you everything if I -!”

She stopped short as Trish let go of her hand to silence Kyrie with a finger to the maiden’s lips. 

“None of that gibberish,” Trish scolded her. She smiled, her hand curling to cup Kyrie’s cheek. “We don’t give peep shows to paying customers, and we certainly don’t let someone watch unless we intend on letting them join.”

“You… you mean…?”

Lady nodded, swinging Kyrie’s hand excitedly. “We want you in our circle, babe.”

“B-both of you?! A-at once?!”

Trish chuckled lowly. “Is two too much for you to handle? Or is it that you like one of us more than the other?”

“N-no, not at all! I… I don’t know what to say! It’s not strange, is it? I’m not being selfish? For wanting to be with both of you?”

“No,” Lady said with a smile, shaking her head. “If you’re selfish for wanting both Trish and me, then I’m selfish for wanting both you and Trish. And Trishie is selfish for wanting us.” She snorted at a thought. “If anything, you’ll be breaking poor Dante’s heart.”

“Dante is kind, but I could never be sure if that kindness was genuine. Or if it was because I am Credo’s sister and not just any other girl.”

“You have a lot to learn, dove.”

“And luckily, you have two patient and willing teachers who are  _ dying _ to spoil you rotten.”

Kyrie blushed at the thought, but nodded, giving Lady’s hand a squeeze. Her other hand went to Trish’s on her face, holding her there. “I want to learn. Please, teach me. Everything.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Well then,” Trish purred, pulling Kyrie into a soft kiss. She spoke lowly against Kyrie’s lips. “Let’s start by getting rid of these uncomfortable clothes, and getting to know each other more…  _ personally _ .”

“O-okay… What do I do?”

The blonde kissed her one more time before turning her by her shoulders to face Lady, still sitting on the desk. Her Lady.  _ Their _ Lady, who squirmed under their combined gazes. Trish kissed the maiden’s shoulder and whispered to her. 

“Finish undressing her,” she told Kyrie. “And don’t be afraid to touch her.  _ Feel _ her under your hands and fingers. Kiss her, if you want. But most importantly, learn her. Learn not to be afraid to touch her. And in turn, learn where she likes to be touched. Every woman has places where she loves to be touched, kissed, caressed. Where she  _ aches _ to be touched. If you find them, she will open up to you, and she will sing.”

Kyrie glanced over her shoulder at the older blonde. “But what about you?”

Trish smiled and kissed her forehead. “One thing at a time. You’ll get to me soon enough, dove. Don’t you worry. And then both of us will take care of you.” She gave Kyrie a gentle push forward and stepped back to observe. 

Shyly, Kyrie approached the woman on the desk. Lady reached to her with both hands, and Kyrie clasped them, letting the older brunette pull her between her open legs. When she was close enough, Lady let go of the maiden’s hands to wrap her arms around Kyrie’s waist. Her hands slid up Kyrie’s back and down again in gentle, reassuring caresses. Their foreheads touched as Kyrie’s hands came to rest on Lady’s shoulders.

“You’re nervous, baby doll,” Lady whispered to her.

“It’s so sudden…” Kyrie mumbled. “And it feels so forbidden.”

“Those are men’s rules, little dove. All your life, you grew up with men’s rules of how we’re supposed to live. How we’re supposed to love. It’s men’s rules that say you’re not allowed to kiss until you’re married, and yet they’re the ones who break the rules they make.” She smiled at the maiden. Trish felt her heart flutter at the sight of that smile, shining like the moon on a cloudless night. “You don’t live by those rules now, baby girl. You’re free.”

Kyrie nodded, her eyes fluttering over Lady’s face. Her gaze settled on Lady’s lips before her eyes fell closed, and she tilted her head enough to kiss those lips so close to her own. The maiden’s hands became restless as they kissed the slow, tantalizing kiss of lovers; her hands came up to Lady’s neck, feeling her shiver, then cupped her cheeks to hold her in that kiss. Panting through parted lips, Kyrie pulled her lips away from Lady’s. Kyrie’s eyes followed her fingertips as they caressed Lady’s skin down her neck. Lady’s eyes closed as she shivered once more, Kyrie’s fingers touching that juncture of neck and shoulder.

Cradling Lady’s neck with one hand, Kyrie leaned over her and brought her lips to that place where shoulder met neck, to that little curve and that little divot in Lady’s soft flesh. The brunette made a sound somewhere between a moan and a squeal of delight and a gasp of surprise. Lady’s arms held Kyrie tighter to her body; her hands clutched the fabric of the maiden’s nightgown. Trish came around the desk to get a better view, watching as Kyrie opened her lips to nip at that spot. Lady’s cries rose in pitch, her head falling back as Kyrie teased and tortured that spot with her mouth.

“Very good,” Trish purred as Kyrie came up for air. That spot on Lady’s shoulder was bright pink from being sucked and nibbled. The blonde carded her fingers through Kyrie’s hair in an encouraging pet. “You found one spot. Now see if you can find another.” She quirked an eyebrow at the maiden. “You’ve watched us through keyholes long enough. Surely you know where else to touch her.”

Blushing at the insinuation, Kyrie nodded. Her hands continued to move over Lady’s skin, as if smoothing the wrinkles out of fabric. Trish may have removed Lady’s corset, but her long gloves remained. Kyrie’s hands worked down one arm, peeling the fabric down Lady’s skin. When she felt Lady shiver once more, the maiden knew she was close. She held Lady’s arm outstretched and kissed down the inside of her arm. Kyrie’s lips stopped at the inside of Lady’s elbow when she heard the brunette sigh wantonly. Lady squirmed on the desk as Kyrie sucked and nibbled on that spot as well, her hands still working the glove off of Lady’s arm. She kissed further along Lady’s forearm to her wrist, where she bit a little harder and made Lady cry out and blush.

Trish chuckled lowly, coming up behind Lady. “That’s right, darling. Memorize these places that you find on her. Give them enough attention, and you’ll have her wet and wanting without even touching her lower half.” 

She sat on the desk and took Lady’s other arm in her hands. Trish mirrored Kyrie’s gestures and actions, peeling off Lady’s glove. Lady’s breath was heated and unsteady as Trish ran knowing fingers along the vein of her arm. 

“Once you get her warmed up, even the slightest touch will send currents of fire through her body. Love her properly,  _ care _ for her properly, and Lady will sing for you so sweetly. Won’t you, my love?”

Lady shakily nodded, turning her head to meet Trish’s lips in a needy kiss. Trish opened her eyes enough to see Kyrie and the look of  _ want _ on her face. The way she bit her lower lip, almost as if she were pouting or sulking. The blonde purred to herself, letting go of her kiss with Lady to reach out to Kyrie, to pull the maiden into a kiss of her own. She felt Kyrie sigh as they kissed, no longer being gentle or chaste with the smaller woman. Kyrie was a woman now, and Trish kissed her as if she were a woman. As she savored and enjoyed the warmth and flavor of Kyrie’s mouth, Trish felt Lady grab her wrist and guide her hand to Lady’s bare bosom. One hand kneaded Lady’s breast as the other, at the small of Kyrie’s back, began to bunch up her nightgown to pull it up. When she felt that there was no more to grab, Trish let go of the fabric to caress bare skin with the flat of her palm. Kyrie broke the kiss with a gasp as Trish’s hand grasped her bare bubbly butt with a firm hand.

“Our little dove sleeps with nothing underneath,” Trish purred in Kyrie’s ear, kissing her neck under her earlobe. Kyrie whined as she was grasped and kissed. “Such a naughty little girl.” 

Trish pulled her hand back and gave Kyrie’s flesh a swift smack. The maiden yelped and jolted at the shock, fighting to steady her breath. The blonde quirked an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Lady. Both of them grinned at this new knowledge, which she was sure would be put to use later. Trish gave the maiden’s flesh another squeeze before letting go, letting the cloth fall back into place as she pulled herself away.

“Lady is still halfway dressed,” she chided Kyrie. “Finish undressing her.”

Kyrie nodded, standing on her own; though she was a little wobbly from her own arousal. Trish held back a snicker, amused at how easy it was to get the maiden riled up. She backed away and watched as Kyrie no longer hesitated to touch Lady. Now, she was confident as she placed her hands on Lady’s waist, pulling her into light kiss after kiss as she guided Lady off of the desk. One foot was firmly placed on the floor, and then the other as Lady stood. She was a few inches taller than Kyrie with her heels still on, but neither seemed to mind. Lady leaned back, bracing her hands on the desk behind her as Kyrie’s hands explored her torso. Trish’s eyes followed Kyrie’s hands, knowing what the maiden was feeling from experience; the flat planes of Lady’s sides, the gentle curves of her breasts, their weight and softness cupped in her hands, the sensitive nubs bright pink like strawberries.

The maiden’s eyes flicked to Lady’s face in a questioning glance, a silent inquiry asked and answered with an encouraging nod. Lady closed her eyes and arched her body, offering her neck and chest to Kyrie’s curious lips. Trish bit her bottom lip, watching the maiden’s own plush lips travel down Lady’s neck and sternum, to one of her breasts. She heard Lady’s breath hitch in delight as Kyrie’s tongue tentatively touched a pert nipple. A heated moan escaped her lips as Kyrie’s mouth enclosed around that nub. What Kyrie was doing with her mouth, Trish could only guess. Whatever she was doing, Lady seemed to be enjoying it as her head fell back in heated breaths and her torso pushed further into Kyrie, aching to be touched more. The maiden’s hands continued to wander. One fondled and massaged Lady’s other breast as the other slid down her side, pushing her skirts down a bit. Her thumb stroked Lady’s skin at her hip, following that little divot formed by her pelvis.

Lady’s hand came to Kyrie’s hair, tangling in the auburn locks. She yanked Kyrie away from her bosom to kiss her passionately. Their lips were locked in a smouldering kiss for several breaths before she guided the maiden’s head downwards. Kyrie kissed a trail down Lady’s body as she was pushed, the maiden’s hands pulling down Lady’s skirts in the process. The brunette kicked the pile of cloth away and spread her legs. Kyrie’s hands caressed her thighs, and Lady whined as Kyrie’s lips kissed her abdomen and her thighs.

“She’s growing impatient,” Trish told the maiden, circling them. “She wants you to touch her.”

“How?” Kyrie asked, turning her head to rest her cheek against Lady’s belly. “Where?”

Trish quirked a golden eyebrow at the maiden. “You’ve seen us. She wants you to touch her and let her cum.” 

She gently moved Kyrie aside and sat Lady back on the desk. The blonde came up behind her partner and spread her legs wide. Lady rested her head against Trish’s shoulder, panting as the blonde opened Lady’s folds for Kyrie to see. A finger touched the little bead at the head of her folds.

“Here, Kyrie. You said you knew cursive, little dove. Prove it. Use your finger or your tongue on her. Write something on her. Something memorable. Something only for you and for her. She won’t be able to tell what you’re writing, but she’ll  _ feel _ it.”

Kyrie nodded, stepping between Lady’s legs. Her hand met Trish’s on Lady’s moist folds, and Lady shuddered as Trish’s fingers slipped away to give Kyrie all the room she needed. Her fingers explored Lady’s wet folds, rubbing up and down their length. She drew circles around the brunette’s vagina and teased Lady’s gate, as if she were going to insert a finger but didn’t. Her whole palm rubbed against Lady’s labia, stroking her and caressing her as if Kyrie were petting a small animal. When her fingers finally touched Lady’s aching clit, the brunette moaned and relaxed further into Trish behind her. Her hips squirmed into Kyrie’s hand as the maiden’s finger swirled and danced against her clit, bringing her closer and closer to her orgasm. But after several moments, Lady shook her head.

It was to be expected, but Trish was still a little disappointed. Not as much as Lady, she knew, as she gently pushed Kyrie away from her. The maiden’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“She’s good,” Lady gasped to her partner. “But she’s still got a lot to learn.”

“I’ll teach her, my love,” Trish assured her, kissing Lady’s forehead.

“Let me cum.”

“Certainly, my love.” Trish chuckled darkly. “But not yet.”

The blonde picked up Lady and cradled the brunette in her arms, carrying her to their bed. Once Lady was laying down and comfortable, Trish gestured with a single finger for Kyrie to come to her. The maiden looked like a scolded child as she approached the bed, her fingers fidgeting and her head bowed. In time, Trish hoped that part of her personality would grow and change. If not, there was always leathers and chains. To reassure her new charge, Trish ran both hands through Kyrie’s long hair, cradling her skull as she pulled the maiden into a kiss.

“Watch closely, my dear,” Trish murmured against Kyrie’s lips. “Watch closely and learn. What I do to her, I will soon be doing to you, so that you will feel what it is you need to do in return.”

Kyrie nodded, watching with wide eyes as Trish crawled onto the bed. Lady didn’t resist her as Trish pushed her legs apart, bracing one on her shoulder as the other was pressed against the mattress. She pushed her long blonde hair to one side so that Kyrie could kneel at the bedside and watch.

Trish  _ devoured _ her lover. Lady howled as Trish’s mouth and lips enclosed over her folds. Her tongue lapped up the sweet nectar that seeped from her body, and she pulled Lady’s clit and labia between her lips to suckle as if they were her breast. She held down Lady’s hips as they began to tremble with the combing orgasm. Her thumb drew circles on Lady’s clit as she wagged her tongue along the entrance to her heat. When Lady finally came, it shook her whole body and seized every muscle she had until even her breath froze in her chest. Trish sat up with a satisfied smirk as Lady lay gasping on the bed.

Her electric blue eyes turned to Kyrie, who blushed and squirmed nervously under her gaze. 

“Your turn, darling.”

The blonde got out of bed as Kyrie stood, the two meeting one another in a gentle embrace. Trish pressed her lips hard against Kyrie’s, kissing her without mercy or reservation. Kyrie squeaked in their kiss, trying to escape as Trish’s tongue rubbed itself against the maiden’s; she filled Kyrie’s mouth with taste Lady on her lips and tongue. Kyrie squirmed further in her tight hold as she felt her nightgown gather in Trish’s hands at her sides, breaking away from the kiss to gasp for breath and lift her arms. The blonde pulled the nightgown off over Kyrie’s head and tossed it away. When Kyrie’s arms came down again, they instinctually went over her bosom and groin. With gentle hands, Trish peeled Kyrie’s arms away from her body to look her over.

Kyrie was slim and lithe, her skin naturally pale from a youth spent indoors. Her cheeks and shoulders were a pretty pink, flushed with embarrassment at having another set of eyes look over her naked body. Her freckles seemed to disappear under that blush. And her breasts… Her bosoms were small and perky, fitting in the cup of Trish’s hands. Her areolas were so pale and pink that they were hard to see against the porcelain of her skin, and her nipples were a soft pale rose. Unlike Lady and Trish, who groomed out of professional courtesy and habit, Kyrie’s garden remained untrimmed. Her curls were a shade more red than her auburn hair.

Her eyes lifted back up to meet Kyrie’s gaze. “We’re going to explore you now,” Trish told her, letting go of her wrists to push back her hair. “We’re going to touch every inch of your body. We’re going to kiss you and caress you until you’re  _ wild _ with want.”

“A-and then what?” Kyrie asked between gasps.

Trish smirked. “You’ll just have to wait and see. Now then. On the bed you go. On your back, beside Lady.”

Lady rolled over onto her side and scooted back, making room for Kyrie on the bed. She held her head up with a hand propped up by her elbow, watching with interest as Kyrie got in bed beside her. At first there was space between them, but that was quickly changed as Lady brought an arm around Kyrie’s waist to pull the maiden closer. Kyrie blushed and turned her head away as their naked bodies touched, but her eyes fell on Trish.

In all of her excitement to make love to Lady and to pamper Kyrie, Trish had forgotten about herself. With a smile, she undressed under Kyrie’s gaze. Naked as well, Trish ran her hands over her own body, noticing that Kyrie’s eyes followed them. She couldn’t help but giggle to herself, amused by the maiden’s curiosity.

“Like what you see, baby doll?”

Kyrie nodded. “You’re very beautiful.”

“So are you, dove,” Lady told her, kissing her cheek. Kyrie turned her head to meet Lady’s heterochromatic gaze, closing her eyes as she tilted her chin to kiss Lady’s lips.

Trish smiled to herself as she watched them, stalking to the bed to lay on her side beside Kyrie. With the maiden distracted by Lady’s lips, Trish got to work. She started at Kyrie’s temple, kissing down the side of her face. The woman ran her tongue over the edge of Kyrie’s ear and felt the girl shudder against her. She chuckled lowly and pulled Kyrie’s earlobe into her mouth, suckling and nibbling with her lips and teeth. The maiden broke her kiss with Lady to gasp and sigh, her body quivering with newly awakened feelings and sensations. Lady held Kyrie’s chin to let her partner continue to explore, kissing down the side of Kyrie’s neck. She didn’t have the same trigger point as Lady, but she could still feel Kyrie enjoying the attention on her neck and shoulder. While Lady enjoyed being kissed on the nape of her neck, Trish discovered that Kyrie enjoyed being bitten on the side; the maiden again shuddered and moaned as Trish dug her teeth hard into the soft flesh at the side of Kyrie’s neck.

Purring in her throat, Trish licked up along Kyrie’s ear to whisper to her, “It seems our innocent little angel likes it a little rough, Lady.”

“Maybe she likes to be held down too,” Lady cooed in return.

“Find out for me, would you?”

Kyrie’s arm on Lady’s side was guided up over her head, bent, and tucked under her neck. Her body rippled as Lady rested her head on Kyrie’s bent elbow, using it as a pillow while holding it down at the same time. Lady grinned a bit, running a hand down Kyrie’s chest and feeling her arch for more of her touch.

“It seems so. Isn’t she a sweet little sub, Trishie?”

“Such a naughty little dove.”

As Kyrie had done to Lady, Trish held Kyrie’s other arm out to kiss and bite. She ran her fingers down the length of Kyrie’s bicep. When this elicited no response, Trish dragged her tongue down, and then her lips. She kissed and nibbled at Kyrie’s inner elbow, then worked her way down the length of Kyrie’s forearm. Trish almost scowled at how little this seemed to affect the maiden. She pushed Kyrie’s wrist above her head, to be held in place by Lady’s hand as the other rubbed gentle circles on Kyrie’s belly.

Trish shifted her position and mounted the maiden’s waist, straddling her hips. Kyrie watched her with wide eyes, her lips parted to breathe in shaky, unsteady gasps. Both of Trish’s hands cupped Kyrie’s throat, cradling her as she kissed those sweet lips. As she sat up, her hands traveled. She ran light fingertips over Kyrie’s shoulders and collarbone, memorizing each flat plane, each gentle curve, every hill and valley of Kyrie’s body. She cupped those little breasts in each hand and massaged them, rolling them in her hand and stroking them with her thumbs. Each time her thumbs grew closer to Kyrie’s nipples, she felt and heard the maiden’s breath hitch.

She brought her tongue down and licked one of those little rosey buds, smirking at the mewl of delight that escaped Kyrie’s lips. “ _ Now _ we’re getting somewhere,” Trish mused.

“P-please…” Kyrie whimpered.

“Please what, darling?”

Kyrie pulled her lips in to wet with her tongue, building the courage she needed to say that forbidden word.

“M-more…”

“Oh sweetling, we’re only getting started.”

The maiden gasped as Trish kissed the peak of her nipple and sucked it into her mouth. That gasp became a heated groan as Trish pinched that little nib with her teeth before opening her mouth further to suck on her whole areola. She rolled her tongue over the maiden’s bud, feeling her squirm under Trish’s body as waves of sparks and sensations traveled through her body to her folds. The demon could smell her arousal and knew without touching her that Kyrie was wet with want. As she toyed with Kyrie’s nipple in her mouth, her other hand continued to massage and stroke Kyrie’s other breast. Trish chuckled at a wicked thought and lifted her head enough that Kyrie’s breast fell from her lips to flop flat onto her chest.

A glance at Lady was all it took. Grinning, Lady scooted down, and Trish shifted to lay flush on Kyrie’s other side.

Kyrie cried out in pleasure as both of them attacked her breasts with their mouths at the same time. She arched into them in ecstasy, and Trish couldn’t help but let her hands wander over the body beneath her. Her hands ran down the center of Kyrie’s chest and down her side, and she heard Kyrie’s voice rise in pitch as she dragged her nails down Kyrie’s flank. She felt Lady’s hand come between Kyrie’s legs, felt Lady run her fingers along Kyrie’s moist womanhood. Trish had wanted to draw it out as long as she could, but at the same time, even she couldn’t resist the temptation. As Lady’s fingers rubbed and explored Kyrie’s folds, Trish sucked harder, bit harder on the maiden’s breast.

She came with a silent scream, her mouth hanging agape as her body trembled and quivered. Trish felt wetness splash against her knees, and knew without having to look that the maiden had squirted in her orgasm. Trish chuckled to herself as she let go of Kyrie’s breast to kiss her slowly and tenderly. Lady removed her lips and her hand from the maiden’s body, kissing her as well when Trish let her go to sit up over them.

“How was your first orgasm, sweetling?” Trish asked, caressing Kyrie’s thigh.

“A… Amazing,” Kyrie gasped out as she began to relax.

“Good. Because we’re not done with you yet.” Trish got out of bed. “On your hands and knees, dove. I’m going to devour you, and then I’m going to touch you deep inside.”

Shakily, Kyrie nodded. She rolled onto her stomach, shivering as Lady ran light fingertips down her exposed spine. Slowly Kyrie pushed herself up onto her elbows and knees.

“I...I don’t think I can go up any further,” Kyrie panted.

Trish purred as she ran her hands over Kyrie’s plush, peach-like bottom. She lifted a hand a little and slapped it back down. Kyrie jolted and yelped, biting her bottom lip to keep from moaning further.

“That’s just fine, sweetling,” Trish said with a smirk. Her hands guided Kyrie’s knees apart to open her further. “This is perfect.”

Without giving the maiden any further warning, Trish buried her face in those copper curls between her thighs. Kyrie cried out in pleasure and surprise as she felt Trish’s tongue against her womanhood, tasting and teasing her folds and her heat. With each shaky inhale, Kyrie sang in delight, her voice rising higher and higher as that bubble of ecstasy bloomed in her belly at Trish’s ministrations. Her moans were peppered with squeaks each time Trish spanked her, and Lady joined in; she scooted down enough to slip her head underneath Kyrie’s torso. The maiden was quickly overwhelmed with stimulation; Trish’s lips and tongue tormented her lower half as Lady suckled and nibbled on her sensitive nipple.

The blonde pulled her mouth away and braced herself on the bed behind Kyrie. She kissed the back of the maiden’s neck. 

“Have you ever touched yourself, darling?”

Kyrie shook her head.

“Then this may feel a little strange. But don’t be afraid, my dove. Just relax and let go.”

She nodded now, and Trish kissed the round of her shoulder. Trish drew circles around the maiden’s opening slowly, getting her used to the feeling of being touched before she worked a finger in gently. Despite her instruction to relax, she felt Kyrie tighten around her in worry. She gave a glance to Lady. Her partner caught her look and nodded. Lady murmured soft words, massaging Kyrie’s breast with one hand as the other ran up and down her back. The brunette lifted her head off the bed to kiss the maiden, distracting her and relaxing her. When she felt Kyrie relax around her once more, Trish continued.

As the maiden inhaled, Trish pushed her finger in deeper until she was in to the knuckle. As Kyrie exhaled, she pulled her finger out. Together, they danced in a slow, gentle rhythm. As her breath began to quicken, so did Trish’s pace, and as Kyrie became relaxed around her, Trish too became comfortable enough to insert a second finger. The maiden moaned encouragingly, and her hips began to rock with Trish’s hand needily. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the maiden’s enthusiasm. 

“Do you feel it darling?” Trish asked her, caressing the spanse of Kyrie’s back.

Again she nodded. “Y-yes,” Kyrie mumbled. “There’s… There’s a place inside me… I want you to touch…”

“I know, baby doll. You’re almost ready.”

Trish continued to thrust her fingers slowly in and out, until she was sure she wasn’t going to hurt the maiden in her eagerness to please Kyrie. Her fingers were slick with the maiden’s need. Encouraged by this, and Kyrie’s desperate hip-rocking, Trish curled her fingers and began to thrust them harder and deeper into the maiden. Her sudden shift in intensity elicited a howl of pleasure from the maiden. Trish smirked to herself as she leaned over Kyrie, kissing her shoulder and back as she finger-fucked the maiden. Finding her pleasure center wasn’t difficult; the blonde struck it again and again with precision accuracy. Lady lay beneath Kyrie, cupping and massaging the maiden’s breasts with both hands now as she kissed and sucked on Kyrie’s neck. With the maiden’s lips free, she sang for them. She moaned and whined and gasped in a song of pure sin as they played her body like an instrument.

When Kyrie came again, she screamed. Her voice rang like a bell through the quiet of the saloon so loudly that Trish was sure Credo could hear it in his office blocks away. She tightened around Trish and squirted into her palm and onto the bed, and her body shuddered as the waves of pleasure went over her whole body. Her arms shook, and Trish had just pulled her fingers out when Kyrie collapsed onto Lady beneath her.

The brunette chuckled and embraced the maiden, petting Kyrie’s hair. Trish laid on her side beside them, stroking the maiden’s back as she rode out her orgasm. She knew from experience that it might be some time before Kyrie recovered, and even then, the maiden would be rather wobbly on her feet. Trish shook a thought from her head, sitting up only long enough to gather the covers of the bed and pull it over the three of them. Lady rolled Kyrie onto her side, the maiden’s back pressed to Trish’s chest.

There was no pillow talk afterward. Only a satisfied, comfortable quiet. There was still so much to teach the maiden, and there was so much for Kyrie to learn. But for now, she had earned her rest.


	14. Chapter 14

Trish was awake before the first morning church bells rang. She laid in bed, watching her Lady and her Kyrie sleep, as she counted the chimes. After the eighth chime faded away to silence, she untangled herself from the mess of limbs and got out of bed. The blonde got dressed enough to be decent in public and headed for the door.

“Trish?”

Kyrie’s voice was a whisper. Trish smiled to herself as she faced the bed. The maiden had rolled onto her stomach, sitting up on her elbows. With her hair cascading over her shoulders like copper rivers, and the blanket slipping down her back to pool at her waist, Kyrie didn’t look like a maiden anymore. She smiled a bit and blushed under Trish’s gaze, gesturing for Trish to come to her.

The blonde obliged, returning to sit beside her on the bed. Kyrie fidgeted with her fingers, mulling over what she wanted to say.

“Am… Am I a woman now?” Kyrie asked, looking up to Trish.

She pushed back Kyrie’s hair, exposing her shoulder and bosom to Trish’s eyes. “You’ve always been a woman, dove. Laying with another person, losing your innocence…” Trish shook her head. “These things don’t make you more or less of a woman. That’s all in here.” Kyrie giggled as Trish poked her in the forehead. The woman smiled and kissed that spot tenderly.

Kyrie rested a hand on Trish’s leg, stroking the fabric of her trousers with a thumb. Again, the maiden tasted her words before she spoke them. “Will I be requested to wear pearls?”

“No, sweetling.” Kyrie looked surprised by the answer. Trish continued to smile at her, petting her auburn hair. “You will  _ not _ be wearing pearls.”

“Why not?”

Trish cupped her cheek and pulled Kyrie into a slow, gentle kiss. When she was finished, she touched her forehead to Kyrie’s. 

“Because Lady and I love you too much to let anyone else see you in such a manner. We will teach you how to run the brothel and the saloon, but no, my dove. You will not be a whore like us.” She pouted so childishly and cutely that Trish couldn’t help but laugh a little. “And while we are on the discussion of you, I must insist on another thing if you are to remain here.”

The maiden blinked up at her. “What’s that?”

“When you are dressed and decent for the day, you will assist me in moving your belongings in here. Unless you  _ prefer _ to watch through keyholes and sleep alone afterwards.”

Kyrie smiled, leaning closer for another kiss. “I think I’d rather be right here, sleeping with both of you.”

“As you wi -!”

The crack of distant gunfire cut Trish’s words short. Another shot rang out through the morning, and then another. Lady was sitting up by the third shot, and all of them held their breath. Listening. 

Waiting.

A voice called down from the saloon below. 

“Trish!” 

It was Dante’s voice.

“Trish, you better get down here quick!”

The blonde was out of bed in a heartbeat, grabbing a rifle from inside the wardrobe. “Lady, stay with Kyrie. And both of you stay in here,” she commanded them.

Lady lifted a corner of the mattress to grab the revolver wedged underneath. She checked that it was loaded before flicking the barrel back into place. 

“Please be safe,” Kyrie begged, holding the blanket to her chest. 

“And let us know what’s up when you come back,” Lady added.

Trish nodded and headed out, closing the door behind her. She met Lucia at the base of the stairs. “Grab a gun and wait by the door,” Trish commanded the red-head. “And if anyone comes wanting a drink, tell them we’re closed until I get back!”

Dante met her at the porch, leading her down the street. Although the alarm bells weren’t going off, every door and window was shuttered closed. 

“Credo’s got it contained,” Dante explained as they walked. He gripped his massive sword over his shoulder. “But he sent for me to get you.”

“Why? If it’s just a demon attack, why summon me?”

A tent had been hastily erected to keep prying eyes away. Sheriff Credo stood guard at the flap, his fresh white coat stained with new splatters of blood. Trish hesitated. She could  _ smell _ it before she saw it. Dante gagged and covered his nose with his hand. Whatever it was stank of something rotten, like meat that had been sitting out in the sun to spoil. 

“I’ve found one of your missing girls, Miss Trish,” Credo informed them when they were near enough. “Unfortunately, I cannot say how much of what’s left was actually her…” 

He opened the flap into the tent to admit them in. More of that disgusting smell poured from within. Trish didn’t bother trying to hold her breath as she ducked under his arm and entered. She gasped and covered her mouth with a hand at the sight of the body.

“Oh my god,” Dante muttered beside her. “I know her. That’s…”

“Willa,” Trish whispered the woman’s name.

The woman didn’t look like she’d been alive even before she was shot. Her flesh was rotted and festering, patched together in places with leather and cloth sewn directly into her skin and muscles. She was bloated in death, but Trish still recognized what was left of her face and her red curls. Her calico dress was matted with blood and dirt, though how much of the blood was her own, Trish couldn’t tell. Nor was she able to determine if it was the shot between the eyes or the two bullets in her heart that had finally killed the woman.

“A reanimated corpse,” Trish said in wonder as Credo led them out of the tent once more. “I’ve never heard of such a magic before.”

“Nor I,” Credo admitted as he fanned himself with his hat. “I found this clutched in her hand.”

He handed Trish a scrap of purple cloth. She almost dropped it when she saw the pattern embroidered in silver, her heart stopping. 

“Do you recognize it?”

She hadn’t seen it in years. She thought she’d  _ never  _ see it again. 

“Say his name, Trish.”

The three turned to the new voice, and all three drew their weapons to point at him. Vergil, in his dark blue duster, seemed only interested in that scrap of purple cloth in Trish’s hand. He adjusted his wide-brimmed hat and nodded pointedly at it.

“She knows who it belongs to, sheriff,” Vergil told them cooly. “As does Dante. As do I. Say it, Trish. Say his name.”

“It…” Her mouth felt as dry as the noon sun baking the desert clay. “It belongs to my husband. It belongs to Sparda.”

/The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I wanted to give you guys a special shout out for following, reading, kudoing, and commenting on this fic! I will be going dark for the rest of the year until Christmas day, when I'll be posting my gift fics for friends in my DMC Discord server. So thank you so much for all the support you've shown this year! If you like this fic and want to see its sequel, "Lullaby for the Damned", be sure to let me know in the comments! I'll post a new schedule on my profile around January or February when I figure out my writing workload, and again, thank you for reading!


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